What If?
by Liv Wilder
Summary: Based on a prompt: What if the crime in the alley scene in 'Always' had nothing to do with Kate's shooting or her mom's murder. And the John Woo marathon went ahead. Would Kate show up at the loft and what happens next? "His footfalls greet her like an approaching army, striking fear and terror, laced with excitement and something that feels suspiciously like arousal, within her."
1. Chapter 1 Believe In Me

Disclaimer: Not mine, especially the dialogue near the start. Characters are the property of AWM & ABC.

* * *

_A/N: Just like 'The Talk', we have the queen of prompts, BlueOrchid96, to thank for this story too._

_The concept is this: what if the crime scene that Kate & Castle visited in the alley at the beginning of 'Always' had nothing to do with Kate's mom's case or her own shooting, and the movie marathon that Castle invited her to after Alexis' graduation therefore went ahead. Would Kate go to the loft? And, if she did show up, what then…?_

* * *

_"If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,_  
_But make allowance for their doubting too;_  
_If you can wait and not be tired by waiting..."_

_'If' - Rudyard Kipling_

* * *

**_What If...?_**

It's foggy. Foggy and damp, and it swirls around them as they walk towards the crime scene, coffee cups in hand.

She met him on the corner, tugging her navy raincoat around her as he approached from a cab with the evidence of their requisite morning caffeine ritual in hand, glad of the warmth from the blue turtleneck sweater she threw on this morning, her grey dress pants catching the chill eddy and whip of the breeze as they head down the alley to face whatever awaits them this time.

She feels lighter since they talked a couple of nights ago at the precinct, hard on the heels of closing the crazy zombie case. Admitting she was seeing a therapist was a big step for her, the hard work finally paying off. Making him understand, trying to ensure it didn't hurt him that she had kept this from him too, it's easier now, doesn't irritate her so much; this need he has to know _everything_, to poke his nose around her business like a bloodhound, to own parts of her life she's not even sure that _she_ owns anymore.

And so things seem better between them, after she told him that her wall is coming down. And the look on his face when she agreed that, yes, she'd like him to be there when it does – it felt like gossamer threads slowly winding around her heart and then tugging, tugging ever so gently. The hope in his eyes, the things it does to her to see him so pleased, with her…

Gone was the surly act of indifference, or worse, the passive aggression towards her that he'd paired up with a careless disregard for his own wellbeing; as if this was the only way he could see fit to punish her – by hurting himself, running around the streets of New York with Slaughter - maybe to test her, find out if she cared, maybe to make her feel a little of how _he_ felt when she was shot and then abandoned him to heal alone.

She's not sure why he turned away from them, she's only certain that she is _so_ glad he's back, and she wants to maintain that hopeful look on his face, give it validation eventually. She's getting closer. Her heart feels playful, lighter, _almost_ ready.

Good enough.

And so this morning, as soon as she got the call from Dispatch, she found herself eager to call him, to invite him to the scene with her just to check that they're as close again as she hopes they are, that it wasn't an aberration fuelled by relief at successfully closing another case together.

She let warmth leak into her voice as she gently woke him with her phone call. No clipped request that he attend, no sarcastic bite, just an offer that he accompany her if he wanted to, her hope that he'd say yes not hidden away this time, clearly evident in the warm honeyed appeal of her tone, the '_great, see you there_' as she hung up, and the '_oh, and Castle. Don't forget my coffee_' tease right at the last gasp.

And so they find themselves in a dirty alley, just three days before Alexis' graduation, attending the scene of another, as yet, unexplained homicide.

* * *

"Of course you don't understand why she's taking her graduation speech so seriously. You're probably the guy who had nothing on but boxers underneath his gown," says Kate boldly, smiling with coy amusement as she teases him.

"That is _so_ insulting. If you must know, I was naked underneath," replies Castle, matching her tease with a bold rebuttal of his own that flirts with that familiar line they used to walk, before their recent estrangement.

And it feels so good to be back here again! Home territory. Somewhere she might be ready to move into permanently, instead of always leaving a go-bag packed by the front door.

"Oh, I'm sorry," scoffs Kate, trying to cover her surprise at his admission. "I stand corrected," she chuckles, risking a glance at him, her cheeks flushing at the stirring of need his disclosure causes in her, the vivid images that come to mind; images she's spent many a long hour both denying herself and teasing herself with.

Castle grins, so pleased with himself, and so pleased that Kate isn't running from this little game they're playing. That she isn't shutting him down, more giving as good as she gets.

"_So_, how _is_ the father of the graduate taking it?" she asks, trying to calm the thudding of her heart.

"I already have a plan to drown my sorrows. After the ceremony, my mother goes out to the Hamptons, Alexis will be doing her all-nighter, _I_ will be distracting myself with a double feature of The Killer and Hard Boiled."

"Wow, that _is_ a double feature," agrees Kate, showing her approval of his movie selection.

"You like John Woo?" asks Castle, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.

"The bloodier the better," grins Kate, pleased that she can still surprise him; prove that there are many more layers to the Beckett onion, even after all this time.

Castle pauses, considering whether or not to ask. Their recent difficulties tell him no, it's too big of a risk. But the look on her face…

"You wouldn't want to _join_ me, would you?"

Kate smiles with undisguised pleasure, lowering her lashes in what he _knows_, he _knows_ to be a flirtatious gesture. Then she gives him the once-over, as if she's _checking him out!_ Before she replies.

"Actually, I'd love to."

Castle stops dead, raises his eyebrows as he watches his partner continue walking towards the crime scene, stunned by her agreement to spend time alone with him, in his _home,_ watching movies after his little girl graduates. Keeping him company, as if they're…

Kate stops, and turns to look back at him when he doesn't follow. She knows that she has surprised him by accepting his invitation, and it thrills her to be able to give this to him.

"You coming, Castle?" she asks, throwing him her warmest smile and a come-hither look that is unmistakable, accompanied by a slight, encouraging jerk of her head.

"Yeah," he says breathlessly, hurrying to catch up with her, excitement at what this might mean for them fizzing through his body

* * *

The case looks pretty clear-cut: a known drug dealer – Skelton Drake - found with his throat slit and his pockets emptied in the entrance to an abandoned nightclub at the scrag end of the alley, half a key of powdery, off-white cocaine dusted around him like confectioner's sugar, congealing on the damp, fetid ground.

Ryan and Esposito canvas for witnesses, but the area is so derelict and deserted that unless the rats can talk they're getting nothing that way.

Kate runs down some leads via her contact in Narcotics. She gets details of known associates, potential suppliers, rival dealers he might have been fighting a turf war with, a list of anyone he owed money to, his aliases, customers he might have pissed off with inferior quality gear, last known address…the whole sordid picture.

It takes them hours to run down and interview the list of known associates alone, and as the second day draws to a close with no resolution, Kate sends Castle home to get some rest before Alexis' graduation the following day.

"Hey…uh…Beckett? We still on for that John Woo marathon tomorrow night?" he asks as he shrugs on his coat, eyes full of so much hope that she _knows_ he's trying and failing to hide from her. "Because if you've changed your mind…"

"No. No, Castle. I do. I want to. It's just, I…it's not _that_. The case…" she says vaguely, helplessly, looking around her at the team and the piles of files on her desk, the stack of recent Narco DD5's to plow through, the uncompleted murder board with Skelton Drake's old mug shot staring down at them accusingly.

"I understand," he says quickly, eyes shuttering, shaking his head and backing off, hands held up as if to protect himself. "You've got a lot on your plate."

And his understanding is almost more than she can bear. She wants him to expect more from her now; to push, make demands.

"Look, if I can shut this thing down…" she starts to say, but he's already backing away.

"Sure. Look, I should go," he says, pointing towards the elevator, the air thick with everything that goes unsaid – the promises, the regrets, his dashed hopes.

As soon as the doors close and Castle's disappointed face disappears from view, Kate turns back to her team to find Ryan and Esposito watching her with interest over the top of their computer screens.

"Where are we on Drake's girlfriend, Cerise?" she snaps, looking pointedly from one detective to the other.

"Got a possible address for her sister in East Harlem," replies Ryan, eyes ducking back to his notes.

"Well, let's move on it," instructs Kate. "We should be wrapping this thing up by now, not turning it into some epic production."

"Yes, boss," they both bark, throwing each other knowing looks.

* * *

Castle doesn't come in the following day, simply texts to say he's spending time with Alexis before the ceremony, and he hopes that '_they_' – the team - catch a break soon.

Kate sighs, staring at her phone, so tempted to call him and explain. But explain _what_? That she hates that her job always has to come first? That he wasn't wrong when he thought that she meant something _more_ by agreeing to a movie night with him? That it's time?

She checks her watch every half-hour, watching the day speed away, measured out in a rhythm of phone calls and interviews; grunt work checking alibis and questioning a seemingly endless parade of shifty, underfed, hygienically challenged, tattooed misfits.

The breakthrough finally comes at a quarter to eight, in the form of a call from Lanie. CSU managed to pull DNA off the discarded cocaine wrapper, as well as matching the drug's chemical signature to a major supplier profile on the Organized Crimes database.

They get a hit on the DNA sample in CODIS and discover that, for once, the guy they want is already languishing in holding on a possession with intent to supply charge from the day before, when Ryan and Esposito picked him up driving a blacked-out SVU over on Amsterdam Avenue, just north of 59th Street, with several baggies of weed hidden in a secret compartment under the front passenger seat.

Ryan and Esposito haul him back into interrogation, confront him with the evidence they do have and bluff around a security cam shot they may or may not have of him walking close to the scene around the time of the murder. He caves, asks for a plea in return for giving up the guy at the top of the Christmas tree. The Captain calls the DA's Office and negotiations begin.

* * *

Kate throws a guilty glance over her shoulder as she frees her hair from under the collar of her coat.

But the guys give her reassuring smiles and wave her off.

"Go. Enjoy your night, Beckett," reassures Esposito, already lifting the phone to make a call.

"Yeah, rescue Castle from that pit of depression he's surely drowning in, now that Little Castle's all graduated and about to fly the coop."

"Thanks, guys," she says gratefully, watching Gates' pursed lipped, cross-armed stance through her office blinds, as she leans over her desk berating the cocky ADA for not coming across with more right off the bat.

"Call me when you get a deal," she instructs them. "We'll take Cristobal down first thing tomorrow morning, before he even gets a chance to pull his shorts on. And keep Santos segregated tonight. I don't want him warning any of his buddies out on the street before we can get to this guy."

"Yes, boss," they agree simultaneously.

"Now, go," says Espo, shooing her out. "Go rescue our boy."

* * *

They hadn't set a time for their movie night (date?). And it's nearly nine-thirty by the time she hits the streets in her dark blue Charger, late enough that traffic is quiet, but…too late to be showing up at her partner's door, she wonders?

Kate thinks about calling him, and then she thinks about all the ways that could go wrong; if he lets her off the hook because of the late hour, if he already watched the movies alone, if he's sacked out on his couch sleeping by now after such a momentous day, if he doesn't even want to see her.

The range of possible permutations makes her feel nauseous. This seemed so easy back in the alley; to accept his offer knowing that they both knew it meant something close to a step forward for them. But the light-hearted, flirtatious edge to the invitation dissolved when she sent him home yesterday with only a half-hearted promise of making it if they managed to break the case, his disappointment swamping what was left of any levity the opportunity held.

The case…they _have_ broken it. That's why she's headed down to SoHo now. Maybe that's the opening she needs…

Kate physically shakes her head the second that thought performs a brief pirouette and takes a bow on the metaphorical stage inside the frontal lobe of her brain.

_No._

This is supposed to be a gesture of growth, a demonstration that her wall is crumbling down around them. To use the case as an excuse to call on him, as if all they are is partners…? _Cowardly, Beckett_, she berates herself, gripping the steeling wheel even tighter, before stepping on the gas.

* * *

There's a liquor store open on the corner of Broome and Bowery, and she goes there first. Spends ten minutes chatting to the eccentric owner, tapping her nails impatiently on the counter as the old guy tells her about a wine-buying trip he made to Chianti back in 1973. She leaves the store, almost running to the car, after buying a bottle of Chateauneuf-du-Pape - Castle's favorite red wine.

Eduardo seems surprised, albeit delighted, to see her, and that hurts in some small way; that even Castle's doorman seems to have such low expectations of them now. He used to wink at her every time she showed up, bowing as he pressed the elevator call button, sending her up to the loft with an '_I'm sure Mr. Castle will be delighted to see you, Miss Beckett_.'

Tonight he merely asks if he should ring ahead to alert (warn) Mr. Castle that she's on her way up.

A shiver passes through Kate as she remembers his recent dalliance with the flight attendant, Jacinda. But she tells herself sternly that he is _over_ that phase, that he _knows_ the score. But it doesn't stop her from telling Eduardo to let her surprise him. If there _is_ some woman up there with him, she reasons, then she doesn't want anyone else bearing witness to her humiliation when she has to descend back down to the lobby with her tail between her legs.

* * *

And then all too late, and yet all too soon, she's standing in front of his familiar front door, her heart doing an Irish jig worthy of Riverdance.

She switches the tissue-wrapped bottle of wine from her right arm to the left, the fine twist of paper rustling against the sleeve of her red coat. Raising her knuckles, she prepares to knock and tries to breathe.

His footfalls greet her like an approaching army, striking fear and terror, laced with excitement and something that feels suspiciously like arousal, within her.

When the door finally swings open and he's standing there in front of her, blinking in surprise, she thinks her heart might just stop if he doesn't say something soon. It's terrifying, and exhilarating, and...

"Beckett, what…ah…you came," he finally gets out, passing a hand over his mouth and jaw, and she smiles shyly, raising her eyes to meet his, holding forth the wine like a peace offering.

He's wearing his robe - charcoal plush - and his feet and legs are bare from what she can see, and her mind is doing somersaults wondering just what the heck he has on under there, after his comment back in that alley two days ago.

"Said I would, didn't I? _So_...any John Woo left, or did you give up on me already? Watch it by yourself?" she manages to say, though she has no idea how she does it.

He stands there grinning as Kate brushes past him into the loft, taking off her coat, hanging it up in the closet with shaking fingers, before turning around to face him when she feels her heart can take it.

"_So_, you planning to lay that stuff down in your cellar or pour me a glass?" she teases, arching a suggestive eyebrow at him, arms crossed over her chest to hold her nervous, hopeful self together.

And with those words, the game is on.

_A/N: Happy New Year! Would love to hear what you think of this idea. I loved it as a concept, because the prospect of the John Woo marathon was such a missed opportunity for them. Considering continuing for at least one, possibly two, more chapters. Any thoughts? Liv_


	2. Chapter 2 In Hopeful Expectation

Disclaimer: Characters are the property of AWM & ABC.

* * *

_**What If…?**_

_Chapter 2: In Hopeful Expectation_

The red tissue paper rustles like autumn leaves as Castle unwinds it from around the bottle of wine.

He looks pleased to see her, only perhaps a little too cautious, as he leads her over to the kitchen, his bare feet padding quietly across the hardwood floor, their height almost matched since she has the advantage offered by high heels this time.

Kate wants him to wants things again, to _expect_ things from her. She needs him to. But she can see from his whole demeanor that he's being careful, reigning in his expectations in case he's misreading the signs.

She thinks maybe she'll just have to get bigger signs.

* * *

"Wow! _Someone's_ been paying attention," he says, eyes reaching for hers the second he scans the fancy wine label, impressed by this important little detail she evidently picked up on years ago and filed away under '_Castle likes_' for some future use.

"Detective, remember?" she shrugs. "Part of the job…retaining quirky details," she teases, trying to play it down a little so as not to embarrass him. Though from the delighted look on his face, embarrassed is the last thing he is.

She runs her nail along the edge of the marble countertop, holding on with her other hand to prevent her from visibly shaking. Eventually, she gives in, and sinks down onto a stool to stop her knees from buckling.

"Quirky? Huh?" He watches her for a second, before looking back down at the bottle. "This is an _expensive_ bottle of wine, Kate."

"Then I hope you have an equally impressive gourmet popcorn to accompany it?" she replies with a slow smile, flushing with pride as he caresses the word '_contrôlé_' with the tip of his finger, as if reading braille, before circling his thumb over the crossed keys of the raised papal crest that sits just below the neck of the dark green bottle.

"Think I have just the thing," he says, placing the wine down carefully on the counter.

* * *

When he stretches up to reach the top shelf of the pantry, Kate takes the opportunity to check her partner out, now that his back is to her. His robe rides up a little, exposing the pale, soft skin behind each knee, the strong curve of definition to his calf muscles now that he's on tiptoe, and the…

"Beckett? I thought staring was considered creepy behavior?"

"Depends who's doing the staring," she fires back, immediately trying to cover her tracks, trying to act as if she doesn't care that he caught her watching him.

She tilts her head to the side, still looking at him, considering, while her heart races wildly.

"You insinuating that _my_ stare is somehow _more_ creepy than yours?"

"Not insinuating, Castle," she smirks, crossing her arms, feeling the thud of her heart inside her chest.

"Right," he chokes, staring down at the bag of gourmet popcorn in his hands. "Sea salt and balsamic vinegar okay?" he asks, thrusting the pale blue and cream striped bag towards her, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed under her watchful gaze.

Since when did Kate Beckett get so brazen and so confident?

"Got a bowl for this? _Or_…we eating straight out of the bag?" she teases.

"Bowl, bowl, bowl?" he chants to himself, spinning in a panicked little circle, nerves getting the better of him, before he slides over to another cabinet and lifts down two white bowls.

Kate relaxes a little, knowing that he's just as nervous as her evidently, maybe even more so, and it helps her confidence a lot knowing that _she's_ the one wearing more clothes right now.

"_Two?_" she asks, when he slides the bowls towards her across the island, looking at them as if she expected one baby and the doctor just handed her twins. "Thought maybe we could…you know…_share?_"

_Oh god._ Nothing _ever_ seemed so erotic to Richard Castle as this moment right here, and he can't quite believe how low his expectations have plummeted. He thinks he was probably in high school the last time sharing popcorn with a woman seemed this hot.

"_Share?_ Sure. Sure _we_ can share. Sharing is good. Sharing is…_caring_…" he squeaks, in a pointless ramble of words.

"Castle," Kate says, snapping him out of his tailspin. "How about that big bowl on the top shelf?" she suggests, pointing past him, unable to disguise the silly smile on her face at his floundering panic. "The one with '_popcorn_' painted on the side?" she adds helpfully.

* * *

When he stretches up again, she takes another opportunity to give him the once over, checking for the outline of any clothing underneath his robe this time. But the plush fabric is so thick and typically Castle-luxurious that she can't get a proper read on it.

"Thought x-ray vision was standard NYPD issue these days," he says, catching her out again and calling her on it. A small act of revenge for the way she's been running rings around him since she arrived.

"Only Sergeants and above, I'm afraid," Kate sighs in mock disappointment, shaking her head ruefully, as she fights to get the heat warming her cheeks under control, since he basically just caught her ogling him for the second time in the space of a minute.

"I should probably go put something on," he says, tying the belt a little tighter around him, sounding a little defeated or apologetic, though she can tell he doesn't really mean it.

What he _really_ means is: I'm comfortable if you're comfortable, and maybe…

"_Unless_…" he suddenly says, with the tone of a lightbulb moment.

"Unless?" asks Kate, swallowing hard, her cheeks flushing furiously this time she's sure, as her heart starts beating so rapidly that she thinks she might pass out.

'_Unless what, Castle?'_ her brain is screaming.

"I have a matching robe…I could, or rather _you_ could…"

"You don't like my shirt?" she rebounds automatically, looking down at the slightly straining top button on her tight fitting, white work shirt, trying, _trying_, to get herself under control here, because it would be so goddamn easy to just lose it right now, and blurt out something really stupid; something she's not sure either of them are ready to hear.

"No. No. Your shirt is… I think your shirt is _awesome_," he ends up says, stupidly, staring at the tiny straining button as if he might be able to make it pop with the power of his mind alone.

"Awesome?" repeats Kate slowly, with a lift of her eyebrows, trying to suppress a laugh, because she's also pretty sure that laughing at him won't do any good at this moment either. Not for his poor, fragile ego and damaged self-confidence.

"I wouldn't have gone _that_ far…but my shirt thanks you for the compliment," she says graciously, biting her lip to hold in her laughter, even though he can see it dancing in her eyes.

"So, that's a no to the robe then? Just to clarify."

"Castle, I just got here and you're trying to get me naked already?"

He chokes while she smirks.

"Let's take things one step at a time, shall we? Save the matching clothes for…_later_," she suggests, enjoying the pink flush this possibility sends spreading up his neck and along his jaw.

"Sorry, I didn't mean…"

"I know what you meant. Relax. I'm just teasing," she reassures him, leaning across the island to pat his hand.

"About which part?" he asks, looking down at his own hand, which is now covered by hers.

Kate doesn't have an answer for his question, because words aren't making any sense to her, especially since he just flipped his hand over and is now cradling hers, palm-to-palm, his warm thumb stroking the small hollow between the joints at the top of her pinky and ring fingers.

* * *

Kate is vaguely aware of breathing in and out, and she is _definitely_ aware of her heart pumping blood around her body, because she can hear it pounding in her ears. The air is thick with tension, the loft seems unbearably warm all of a sudden, and when she lifts her eyes from staring down at their joined hands to look at Castle's face, she finds him doing the exact same thing.

And it's as if a tipping point has been reached, a fork in the road, the domino effect…or maybe it's chaos theory in action. She's not sure which exactly.

"I…I'm sorry, you were saying?" she says, her mouth suddenly dry.

"Uh…I _was_?" asks Castle, finally letting go of her hand and withdrawing back to his side of the island.

Because this is so unusual for them, Kate realizes: to be alone together in his home without a case or some crisis to give their time together structure and urgency, and without the myriad other people usually hovering around them, depending on them, listening in to their conversation so that anything personal is edited out before it even has time to form. And so they're actually a little out of their depth for once.

* * *

"_So_, this is a little strange," admits Kate, feeling the need to just put it out there. Clear the air. Throw her partner a lifebelt if he needs it.

"Strange?"

Castle still seems limited in his vocabulary and word count, either by nerves or the fact that he just held her hand for more than a couple of seconds and she didn't pull away.

"Yeah. You and me. _Here_. No case to worry about. No Martha or Alexis. No Javi or Kevin to..._interrupt_," she smiles knowingly.

"Just you and me."

"Yes."

"Does…does that bother you?" Castle asks, frowning and hesitant.

"No," says Kate, shaking her head emphatically, so that he understands that she has _zero_ doubts about being here alone with him. "No. Does it bother you?"

"I might be…a little nervous," he admits, smiling shyly, and then looking off to the side, because he's too afraid of what he might read in her eyes right this second, if he's wrong about all of this, about how it seems.

Kate can't help smiling back, and taking this rare chance to tease him.

"Is that your way of admitting that _I _might make you nervous, Mr. Castle?"

"You always made me nervous, Kate Beckett," he blurts, and then looks at her with widening eyes, caught out by his stupid, runaway mouth.

"Didn't mean to say that, did you?" she laughs, shaking her head at him, her genuine smile showing no hint of taunting or cruelty.

"No," he laughs too, embarrassed by his own unfiltered thoughts. "You didn't inject me with some truth serum when I wasn't paying attention?"

"You spend a lot of time with me not paying attention, Castle. Think I'd have tried out the truth serum on you before now."

He nods, smiling, and then he drags the bottle of wine towards him.

"How about we down a couple of glasses of this, and maybe my nerves will go away?"

"And what might I expect when your nerves are gone?" she challenges, leaning closer to him, her chin resting on her hand.

Castle just stares straight at her, pinning her with his true blue eyes.

"Are…are we doing what I think we're…" he starts to say, breathlessly, trying to gauge her expression. "Because Kate, I do _not_ want to make a mistake here, and…"

His eyes are wild, panicked looking, so desperately hopeful that they might actually be getting somewhere for once. But so goddamn terrified he's going to mess it up.

"Castle, just pour the wine," she says gently, dropping her teasing tone.

She covers his hand briefly with her own and squeezes lightly, before withdrawing to busy herself with opening the large bag of popcorn and tumbling it into the giant sharing bowl with a whispered, papery rush, while Castle watches her, unable to move or look away.

_A/N: Oh wow! Wow! The response to this was the best I've ever had. I'm beyond amazed. _

_When I read this chapter back, the tension in this scene seemed to hold up best if I stopped it right here. This might end up being more than three chapters, in fact, I'm fairly certain it will. There's so much ground to cover, so much mileage in working them gently through this awkward phase. As someone's review said, it's so different to see Kate take steps forward in life that aren't driven by some life-or-death situation. So, if you'll indulge me (again), I'm going to take this steady. Also, everyone is busy these days, so I'm sure finding time to read a shorter chapter is easier. Thank you for all the messages of encouragement. What a great way to start the year! Liv_


	3. Chapter 3 Nervous As A Kitten

Disclaimer: When I wish upon a star...

* * *

_**What If…?**_

_Chapter 3: Nervous As A Kitten_

Kate makes her way over to the couch with the large bowl of popcorn clutched to her chest. When she gets there, she kicks off her heels, shrinking by four inches in the process. Then she rubs a hand over her lower back and arches her spine to stretch out tired muscles, before sinking down onto the soft, brown leather with a sigh of relief, nestling into the corner and trying to relax.

Castle stares after her, watching the sway of her hips as she moves, the way her heels make her back arch slightly, heightening the curve of her ass, the slight torque and twist of her jeans around her hips and thighs as she steps out of her shoes one at a time.

And when she arches her back, the sight makes his mouth go dry.

He finally gets it together enough to make sure he isn't being a completely terrible host, hurriedly lifting the two glasses of wine off the counter, and following her over to the couch.

He sets one down on the coffee table in front of her, startling at the sharp crack of glass on glass when the wine goblet lands a little too heavily because he can't take his eyes off the pale line of her throat and it's ski slope descent towards her cleavage. Definitely a black run, maybe even off-piste altogether, if he ever gets it together enough to…

'_Don't even think about it, idiot_,' he chides himself, managing to put down his own glass with a whole lot more grace and a whole lot less noise.

Kate ignores his clumsiness, figuring she's probably teased him enough for one night. Any more from her is just going to set him completely on edge.

He settles further along the couch, a whole cushion space away from her. So Kate moves the large bowl of popcorn to fill the void, trying to disguise the awkward cavern of space he's left between them.

And since when did _more_ space become even more uncomfortable than _less_?

* * *

He re-tied his robe before he sat down, but once he shifts around to face her, slightly drawing one knee up onto the couch, she gets a little more of a view than she's sure _he_ bargained for.

"Uh, might want to adjust things there, Writer Man," she smirks, with an arch of her brow, watching his face flame redder than she's ever seen it.

There's nothing of substance on show, not really, just a large expanse of muscled thigh. But another inch or two and the mystery of whether or not he's wearing anything under his robe will be all but solved.

"God, Kate, I'm so sorry," he exclaims, jumping to his feet, mortified, tugging the plush fabric tighter around himself. "I'm just gonna go…" he says, jerking his head towards the bedroom, "…uh, throw some clothes on. Be right back," he mumbles.

Kate covers her face with her hands, feeling kind of sorry for him. He obviously wasn't expecting her tonight, despite their prior arrangement, because he clearly wasn't dressed for having company over, and it's not like she has a great track record of coming through for him where their personal relationship is concerned. She's pushed him away or held him at arms length one too many times for him to have faith in anything she promises outside of work.

And it makes her heartsick to realize that that is the truth.

* * *

"Castle?" she calls out, when he's a few feet away, stopping him dead.

He spins back around with a look in his eyes that says he expects she's about to crush him, that he's just wrecked this tentative whatever by almost flashing...

Oh god, he just _flashed_ Kate Beckett. _Holy crap! _And he cringes inside.

"Yes?" he asks weakly, waiting for the hammer blow.

Because this is _not_ going well, or so he believes.

Kate, on the other hand, has been having a whale of a time up until now, but he has absolutely no idea how she's feeling or what's running through her mind.

"You didn't think I was going to show, did you? _Tonight_, I mean. You didn't think I'd come?" she states, a raw, exposed look in her eyes, sadness and disappointment both that she's done this to him: crushed his hopes so many times that his belief in her where he's concerned is almost non-existent.

He looks at her for a second, preparing to bluff like he usually would, to lie actually, and then his shoulders drop and the truth comes spilling out.

"When I called Ryan just after seven, he said it didn't look good. That…"

"Wait. _Ryan?_ You…you called _Ryan_ to find out if I was…to find out if I was going to come over here, or…or _what?_ _Lie_ to you about why I couldn't come?"

She sounds angry, but she's not. She's hurt that he didn't call _her_ and ask her himself. They're supposed to be partners. But she knows that this is really all her own fault. She hates what she's done to them; how complicated she's made everything with her mixed signals and subtext and delaying and withholding and never feeling good enough, never feeling ready.

"Kate," he says, helplessly, coming back to settle on the edge of the couch beside her to explain, if his stupid brain will only function before his mouth decides to open tonight.

"I didn't want to pressure you. I…I knew you were busy, wrapped up in the case, and we hadn't even set a time for tonight, made any kind of firm arrangement, and I…"

"Castle, you have a _right_ to expect me to be here," Kate interjects, startling him. "If…if I say I'll be here it's because I want to be, and you have every reason to expect me to show up, or come up with a good explanation if I can't make it."

"Right," he says slowly, taking in her words. Not quite sure what this seismic shift means for them, if indeed she means it like it sounds: as if they might be getting somewhere.

"I…"

Kate huffs, frustrated with herself, brushing both hands firmly down her thighs and over her knees, rocking forwards over her lap as she does so, before taking a slow breath and sitting up straight.

"I want you to…to ask more of me," she says slowly and deliberately. "To _expect_ more. You deserve more, Castle," she adds, finally glancing up at him tentatively, before lifting her glass to her lips and taking a healthy sip of wine that turns into more of a gulp. "_So_ _much more_," she adds under her breath.

He doesn't say anything, doesn't touch her, afraid that if he does it might break the spell.

"Do…do you understand?" she asks, her voice losing its fervor, its fire, softening along with the smile she offers him.

"Eh…yeah. Yes, I think so," he replies, swallowing, looking at her like a terrified rabbit, not entirely sure that he _does_ understand.

"Good. Now, why don't you go put some clothes on," she says gently, thinking to herself, '_or I for one will not be watching any movie tonight_.'

Castle rises slowly from the couch after taking a healthy swig from his own wine glass to settle his nerves.

When he leaves, half closing his bedroom door behind him, she collapses back against the leather couch, exhausted by the effort it's taking to hold herself together and stay apart from him tonight. Not to spill out everything she's thinking and feeling inside the first half hour.

* * *

Castle jogs back into the room a couple of minutes later, breathlessly saying, "Sorry about that," and running a hand self-consciously through his hair.

Kate takes a deep breath when she hears him coming, and prepares herself for whatever's coming next, trying to force her brain to sharpen up.

"So, tell me, just how proud _were_ you today?" she asks, at exactly the same moment that Castle says, "So, how about you fill me in on the case?"

They both laugh awkwardly, grinning nervously at one another once Castle brushes past her to sit on the couch, a little closer this time.

He's wearing grey sweatpants and a black, long-sleeve Henley with several buttons undone, so that she gets glimpses of his well-defined chest when he sits. The sleeves are roughly pushed up to the elbows, exposing his forearms.

Kate takes another sip of wine, trying to ignore how sexy he looks with _more_ clothes on, if that's even possible.

"No. Please. Ladies first," he insists, when Kate tries to make him go ahead and tell her about his day.

"Alexis' graduation? Proud dad? Or low-life drug dealers? I know which one I'd rather hear about," she reassures him, nudging his knee.

"Okay, if you insist," he nods eagerly, bouncing on the couch with excitement, hands falling either side of his hips to brace himself. "She was _amazing_, Kate," he confides in her, finally breaking into a grin, pride just beaming right out of him, completely unafraid to boast about his little girl to this woman.

And for the first time since she arrived at the loft tonight, he looks relaxed and happy as he enthusiastically describes Alexis' graduation ceremony.

"Her speech was _perfect_. Inspirational, uplifting, original, so powerful that _parents_ were actually crying. C_rying!_" he stresses. "And then when she got to the end part…"

"Yes?" asks Kate, leaning towards him with genuine interest and a smile and nod of encouragement.

Castle remembers his daughter's words; about how she and her classmates are saying goodbye to all that is familiar, moving on with their lives, and how that hurts. But then he _hears_ the last of her words: that there are some people who are so much a part of us that they will be with us no matter what. And he realizes that he was thinking about Kate as Alexis spoke. He was thinking about Kate the whole time.

'_They are our solid ground, our north star, and the small clear voices in our hearts that will be with us…always.' _

* * *

"Castle?" says Kate gently, reaching out to touch him.

"Hmm?" he asks, startling when her cool fingers wrap around his wrist.

"The end of her speech?" she prompts. "Or are you going to keep me in suspense?" she laughs, teasing him again.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry. The end," he repeats, not sure how much to share, since he thinks it's probably too soon to start talking about what's in his heart where Kate Beckett is concerned.

"I wish you could've been there," he says instead, sounding almost dreamy for a second. "Mother was weeping, of course. _Loudly_," he adds for levity, rolling his eyes with exaggeration, while trying to shake off the feeling he had in the hall at Marlowe Prep: that he almost lost Kate through his own stupidity, that it _really_ doesn't matter if she lied to him as long as she's here now, asking him to push her for more.

Kate laughs at the thought of Martha's dramatics. She loves listening to him talk about his family, seeing how dedicated he is to them, what a good man he is at heart. She berates herself for all the wasted time spent thinking he was beneath her somehow. First that he wasn't right for her and then that she wasn't good enough for him.

"You must have been so proud," she says, stuffing these emotions down inside, drinking more of her wine, pretty sure Alexis would _not_ have been delighted to have her along, but that maybe sometime in the future the girl will come round.

* * *

"So, your turn," he says," poking her thigh, suddenly a lot closer to her than they were a few minutes ago.

Kate captures his finger before he can move away, holding on for a couple of seconds before letting him go, not quite understanding what possessed her to do that.

Castle looks down at his own hand, and then up at her face.

"Impressive reflexes, detective," he says, smiling appreciatively, while Kate's heart pounds.

"You have no idea," she replies, holding his gaze, playing with fire.

"No. No. You're right. I didn't then, and I guess I still don't," he laughs ruefully, running his hand through his hair again, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture.

Kate looks down at her lap, embarrassed, because she feels as if she wants him to _know_, to have _every idea_ of how good they could be together. But she just doesn't know how. They might as well be playing a game of tag in the playground, for all the maturity and elegance she feels she's employing to handle the situation tonight.

"So, Drake? What'd you find on him?" asks Castle, clearing his throat, and letting her off the hook in the process. Always letting her off the hook.

"Uh, Drake? Yeah. So, we…uh…we got a breakthrough from forensics," she tells him, twisting her hair into a ponytail and then draping it over one shoulder. "CSU pulled some DNA off the cocaine wrapper that was found at the scene. Turned out we already had the guy in holding."

"Are you _serious?_" asks Castle, all relieved enthusiasm, smiling encouragingly at her.

"Yes. Yes, I am serious," says Kate levelly, looking right at him, not talking about their suspect anymore. Simply staring at the man that she needs in her life, that she suspects will be her future, even if he doesn't know it yet.

When she doesn't offer anything further, Castle prompts her again, because he can feel the tension starting to come off her in waves, and though he wants this so badly, he doesn't want to ruin what they seem to be building here by pushing things or have her regret anything she says or does tonight.

* * *

"I have to use the bathroom," Kate says suddenly, excusing herself, after dropping her eyes to his mouth, and then having to force herself to look away.

When she gets inside the guest bathroom, she falls back against the door, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

"Kate, get it together," she hisses quietly, into the all-embracing silence.

Why in hell are they both so nervous tonight, so tentative with each other? She knows that he loves her, because he told her so. But then, he doesn't think she heard him, so…yeah, there is that.

And she knows that he finds her attractive. He's been staring for the past four years for god's sake, and he hated Demming, Josh, even poor Colin Hunt. And as to the ridiculous question of whether she finds him attractive?

Kate groans, and heads over to the vanity to rinse her wrists under a stream of cold water, and then she soaks a wash cloth under the faucet and pats the cool, damp cotton either side of her neck.

This is torture. She has to do something before she combusts.

* * *

When she re-emerges from the bathroom, Castle is lounging along the whole length of the couch, feet up, head on the armrest, playing with the TV remote, and all she can do is stop and stare. His body is spread out so invitingly in front of her, and she's never felt so needful of him before; this heady rush of excitement and nerves that is making her feel hot and nauseous, light-headed and achy.

She rolls her shoulders back, digs her nails into the palms of her hands, and then takes a deep breath, before padding quietly over towards him.

"Making yourself comfortable, I see," she teases, and he immediately scrambles to sit up.

She stops him from moving any further with a hand to his shoulder.

"No. Relax, Castle. Please? Don't move. You look so comfortable. And I'm pretty sure there's room for both of us," she says, smiling down at him. "If you scooch your butt over."

_A/N: Still over-whelmed by the response to this story. I'm so grateful for everyone's reviews. Glad you're happy with the pace. Only one day to go for the lucky ones. Two for the rest of us. Liv_


	4. Chapter 4 The Bloodier The Better

Disclaimer: Characters are the property of ABC & AWM

* * *

_**What If…?**_

_Chapter 4: The Bloodier The Better_

Castle really isn't sure if Kate means for him to move over on the couch to make space for her to settle in beside him, despite what she just said. So he tries to turn around and put his feet back on the floor. But Kate just bumps his ankles back up with her knee, before they even hit the deck, and then she planks herself down by his hip, forcing him to move back into the cushions to make room for her.

If he could feel her heart beating right now, he would know how terrified she is. But somehow or other, she manages to regulate the heat warming her whole body, in a performance of controlled nonchalance that Martha Rodgers would have given up a Tony for (had she ever actually won such an award).

"So? Hard Boiled or The Killer? What are we starting with?" she asks, lifting her glass off the table and attempting to lift it to her lips without her partner noticing how badly her hands are shaking.

Castle quickly glances at his watch. It's twenty to eleven at night, and Kate still seems eager to start a movie marathon. He considers pointing out the time, but catches himself with a nano second to spare, working out that mentioning the time sounds as if he isn't keen, which he most definitely is. And then there's the fact that it might chase her away, and she's sitting beside him now, hip-to-hip, reaching for their bowl of popcorn as if it's the most natural thing in the world to have her warm, soft body so close to his.

And more than anything, that's what he really wants - for _them_ to be the most natural thing in the world.

* * *

He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything, Kate warns, "And Castle, if you say 'ladies choice'…"

"Uh, okay. Then if you're holding a theoretical gun to my head… It _is_ theoretical?" he jokes, delighted by her answering smile.

"This time it is. Go on," she says indulgently, nudging his side.

"Great. Well, in that case, my choice would be _Hard Boiled_," says Castle, peering at Kate from behind his hands, flinching as he awaits her response to his choice.

"_Yes_," hisses Kate in triumph, trying to focus on his movie selection, rather than the fresh scent of his skin and clothes, both just so familiarly 'Castle', wrapping around her with dangerous effect.

She high fives him, then leans to one side to let him point the remote to set up the movie, before he settles back down against the cushions, shimmying into the back corner and then stretching his arm along behind her to make space. Still making sure not to touch her at this point.

"You ready?" he asks, and he feels as if his lips could just brush her ear if he leans any closer, though in truth he's still a good foot away from doing that.

"As I'll ever be," replies Kate, cryptically, as he presses play.

* * *

The background to the story is that a kick-ass Hong-Kong cop teams up with an undercover agent after his partner is killed, to shut down a mobster and his crew who're running guns in Hong Kong. There are drugs, weapons aplenty, chase scenes, even a pistol with a silencer hidden inside a hardcover book, James Bond-style.

When they reach the motorcycle scene, where ten or so guys are riding bikes through an old warehouse, firing an assortment of weapons, from automatic handguns to massive machine guns, from the back of their bikes, Castle sits up and nudges Kate.

"Hey, ever fire your gun off the back of your bike or…or out of a moving vehicle?" he asks, sounding like an awe struck teenager.

"_Seriously_?" laughs Kate, sitting up beside him, since they both seem to have slipped down into a prone position. (And how did that happen?) "How long have we been working together?"

"Wow! _Working together_? That's progress. Normally, I get 'following you around'."

"_How long_?" repeats Kate, trying to suppress a grin and ignore his remark.

"Four years."

"And in that time, exactly how many car chases have we been in?"

"A couple, maybe more."

"Right. And did you _ever_ hear me tell you to take the wheel so that I could lean out of the window and fire my weapon?"

Kate's trying hard not to laugh at the serious look on Castle's face as he answers each of her questions.

"No. But then I don't always listen to everything you tell me to do."

"Ah, so you're finally prepared to admit that," sighs Kate.

"Maybe if you let me drive once in a while…"

"Castle?" she says, laughing now.

"What?"

"Shut up and watch the movie."

"Right, boss."

"_Boss_? Oh, this moment I have to record for posterity."

"What? Why?"

"You just called me 'boss'."

"So?"

"You just admitted that you don't even listen to the instructions I give you out in the field, to keep you _safe_, I might add. And _now_ you're calling me 'boss'?"

Castle grins at her, looking silly and childish, and then they both start laughing, the movie temporarily forgotten, as sparks fly off of oil drums and shipping containers in the old warehouse on his giant screen. Though these are mere damp squibs in comparison with the sparks that are starting to fly in Castle's living room between a certain mystery writer and his lady detective.

* * *

Kate lies back down, her head on the arm of the sofa, looking up at the ceiling once her laughter subsides, and then she sighs a beautiful, sated sigh, letting her hands come to rest on her stomach.

Castle is still leaning up on one elbow, looking down at her with a blissful smile on his face.

"I wish we'd done this before," he says, a little sadly, nudging her thigh with his knee.

"What? Movie night?" asks Kate, turning her head to look up at him.

He's such a warm, solid presence beside her, and now that their nerves have subsided a little, she's enjoying being so close to him. The level repetition of his breathing is soothing, the rise and fall of his chest a measure of time passing, and she would really like nothing more than to turn on her side and have him spoon her right now, strong arms wrapping around her body to hold her tightly against him.

But still something holds her back. That old boundary they stalk, like a tiger at an electric fence, scared away when they come too close to crossing this mysterious line they've set up between them by some unspoken mutual agreement somewhere back in their distant past.

Wine. '_Yes, more wine'_, thinks Kate, sitting up to reach for her glass.

"Movie night, drinks, whatever," Castle carries on musing. "Just…hanging out away from work."

Kate grabs her glass and takes a healthy sip.

"Yeah, and we'd never hear the end of it at the precinct," she says, testing out his reaction to that idea.

"Does that bother you?" asks Castle, testing her out too, and now he's doing _her_ thing – biting his lip – as he waits for her reply.

"Being the source of precinct gossip?"

"Yeah."

"I…no. Actually, no. Because I'm pretty sure they think we're…doing _something_ already anyway. And if we're not, then they think that we should be."

"And what do you think, detective?"

Everything goes still. The tension in that moment is unbelievable, electric, and they've never been this physically close before, unless cuffed and drugged or thrown in the trunk of a car, and even then, not for this long and by choice.

"I think maybe this wine is going to my head and I'm letting my mouth run the show instead of my brain," laughs Kate, recklessly taking another gulp of wine, regardless.

* * *

As she goes to put the glass down, her elbow bumps the cushion and she sloshes a few drops of ruby red liquid onto her white shirt.

"Shit!" she curses, struggling upright.

Castle springs into action.

"Okay, we need to keep that wet."

Kate arches an eyebrow at him.

"This another one of your ploys to get me naked?"

"As if," he snorts. But his pinking cheeks and the twinkle in his eye give him away.

Great suggestion, Kate.

He climbs over her and then offers her his hands to pull her upright.

Kate overbalances once she's on her feet, falling against him. But he catches her easily, resting his hands on her shoulders to steady her.

"You okay?"

"Fine. You pulled too hard. That's all."

"Sorry," he smirks, pausing the movie. "Don't know my own strength clearly."

"I'm not drunk, Castle," she says, poking him in the arm.

"Okay. I get it. You're not drunk. But we do need to soak your shirt or that wine will stain."

Kate swivels her eyes up from the blooming purple patch above her left breast to meet her partner's gaze.

"So, you _do_ want me to take my clothes off?" she challenges, biting the inside of her cheek.

"I will get you one of Alexis' shirts from the laundry. Why don't you go change out of that in the bathroom, and _I_ will pass something in to you? Like a gentleman, Kate," he calls out after her.

Kate turns round and gives him a sexy grin over her shoulder.

'_Yeah, well don't be too much of a gentleman_,' she mutters under her breath, once she's headed towards the bathroom.

* * *

She's down to her bra and jeans when she hears the soft tap on the bathroom door. The red wine has soaked through to slightly stain her white bra pink in places, but she thinks handing him _that_ garment might just be a step too far.

"Coming," she calls, leaving the shirt soaking under a flow of cold water in the sink.

Castle hands her a dark grey cotton shirt around the barely open door, keeping his head out of view.

"Thanks."

"Should fit okay. You guys are about the same size. Can you hand me your shirt and I'll throw it in with some stain remover?"

"This all part of being a gentleman too? You're doing my laundry now, Castle?" she teases.

"Whatever it takes, Kate," he says easily, and she can hear the smile in his voice, the warmth, even if all she can see is his disembodied arm waving in the air for her sopping wet shirt.

"Thanks, partner," she says, handing him the garment once she wrings it out.

"My pleasure, Kate," he adds softly.

And it's only when she turns away to pull the fresh shirt over her head, that she sees that Castle had a full view of her in the mirror the whole time. And she's actually not that disappointed. In fact, she's pretty sure that this is progress.

* * *

Alexis' shirt, other than being dark grey to Castle's black, is almost identical – a close-fitting Henley with buttons part way down the front.

"You're determined to get us into matching clothes this evening," she jokes, when she emerges from the bathroom wearing the borrowed shirt and her own jeans. "Team colors."

"Just grabbed what was to hand," says Castle, by way of an excuse.

"Right," replies Kate, clearly not buying it.

"Looks good on you anyway," he remarks, eyes scanning down over her body, making no attempt to disguise the hunger she can clearly see in them either; the desire he always tries to hide from her, but that surfaces now and again when they sail close to the wind.

Kate feels her skin prickle and flush with excitement now that he's openly looking at her, appraising her body, and for once she doesn't want to stop him.

She left the top four buttons undone, and it's sexy, but not too obvious, though if they get back onto that couch in the same position as before, she's pretty sure Castle will be the one enjoying the view this time.

"It's getting late," says Castle, reluctantly offering her an out if she wants it. "You want to continue with the movie or…?"

"_Or_…?" teases Kate, overtly flirting with him.

And maybe the wine has gone to her head a little. But she doesn't care.

"_Kate_," he says heavily, voiced laced with a mild warning.

He comes over to stand close to her, taking a massive risk when he leans in and presses a kiss to the top of her head, running his hand briefly down her arm. "I don't want you to go. But if you have to…?" he sighs, letting a long, slow breath escape.

He's so tender and gentle, the kiss so innocent even, that it takes her breath away more than any passion-filled embrace would have.

Her heart is hammering. She lets her fingers tangle with his when she manages to find his hand, and then she tugs him gently back towards the couch.

"Let's finish what we started," she says, setting him back down on the couch first, with the light pressure of her hands on his shoulders, before settling down next to him.

* * *

When a scene airs in the movie, depicting police officers carrying the coffin of a fallen comrade, his cap sitting atop the flag-draped casket, Castle tenses noticeably beside her.

"Thinking of Roy?" she asks, turning her head to look at him, so in tune with his moods and the movement of his body beside her that she feels the shift instantly.

"Hard not to, when you see something like that."

"Mmm," murmurs Kate in agreement.

Because on another day, in another sunshine-filled cemetery, what now seems like light years ago, this was them; walking to a solemn beat, bearing the weight of their beloved leader and friend for the very last time.

"You know, the day we carried his coffin…that was one of my proudest days, Kate. That _you_ and Evelyn would ask me to be a part of that," he says, pausing the movie for a second so that they can talk.

Because they've never taken time to discuss any of this before.

"You're part of the team, Castle. Our little cop family. It was right that you were there. It's what Roy would have wanted too," she says, knowing that Roy wanted more for both of them than they even have now. That he all but placed her hand in Castle's that night in the hangar, as a father would for a bride, giving Kate over to her partner for safe-keeping.

* * *

She slides round on the couch, moving easily against the leather, until her knees are touching his thigh and she's propped up on one elbow facing him, lying side-by-side.

"You know Roy was always a great champion of yours," she tells him. "Right from the start, when I was kicking and screaming about having you follow me around. I know now, when I think about it rationally, that he could have thrown you out, friend of the mayor's or not," she laughs, letting her hand fall to his knee, as she shakes her head, eyes filled with humor.

"So, why didn't he? Why'd he put up with me?" asks Castle, letting his hand rest on the lower half of _her_ thigh, mirroring her posture.

"He knew you would be good for me, I guess. I was so lost back then, Castle. _Driven_, but still lost inside. He saw…_something_ in you," she smirks, arching her eyebrow and then shaking her head, lips pressed together.

"And something in you too, maybe?" risks Castle, brushing his thumb over the ripples in her jeans, where the fabric has gathered at her bent knee.

"Maybe," replies Kate, lowering her eyes and feeling her cheeks warm up again as she senses him watching her.

"I never felt more honored to be your partner than I did that day, Kate. To be able to stand beside you, after everything that we'd been through…"

"_Rick_," warns Kate, flexing her fingers around his wrist, as he wanders so close to painful territory; old ground they haven't yet been brave enough to excavate.

"Kate, please? Hear me out?" he asks, and she instantly relents, letting her head fall heavily onto her own shoulder, so that she's looking up at him from an angle.

"I know how hard it was for you to let me force you out of that hangar. How easily you could have frozen me out, blamed me for Roy's death, refused to ever see me again."

"But I couldn't," Kate tells him, shaking her head again, reaching for his arm and squeezing hard for emphasis. "I couldn't. _Never_. Not by then. Not when…"

* * *

Her phone rings, and they both jump, staring at one another with fat, unshed tears shining in their eyes.

Castle pulls himself together first, reaching over her with a quick muttered apology to hand her her cell phone from the coffee table, as she hangs on to him to prevent herself from falling backwards off the couch when the weight of his body briefly presses against hers.

She turns around, resting back against his arm again, wiping away a tear as she prepares to answer the call.

It's closer to midnight than eleven-thirty now, and Kate glances at her partner before answering, feeling his fingers lightly ghosting over her hair where it drapes over the arm of the couch.

"Espo? What have you got?" she asks, clearing her throat retroactively, when her voice comes out sounding scratchy and choked.

"Sorry, Beckett. Didn't mean to wake you. You said to call if…"

"You…uh…you didn't wake me, Esposito," she says, shaking her head at Castle and holding him in place beside her when he looks like he's about to climb over her to give her privacy to take the call by herself.

"No. Stay," she whispers to him, covering the mouthpiece until he relaxes.

"Beckett?" says Esposito. "You okay?"

"Fine. I'm fine, Javi. So, did you get a deal?" she asks more loudly, laying her hand back on Castle's knee.

"We got a deal. All signed. DA agreed to ten years. Eight for good behavior, _if_ we get this guy, Cristobal, tomorrow. Gates is keen to make a move on him before the jungle drums start beating. Judge signed off on the warrant tonight. What time do you want to set up the op? Ryan and I were thinking six, but we can go in earlier if you think…"

Castle sits upright when he hears the details of the call, the urgency of this operation to take down the kingpin at the head of this supply chain, and the time constraints they're working with.

"Kate, you should go. This is important," he tells her, with such a serious expression on his face, even although she knows that it's costing him personally to let her go.

"Just a second, Javi," she says, before muting the call.

"This is important too," she argues, determined not to let go of the progress they've made tonight, not to let them backslide again into their comfort zone.

"_What?_ John Woo?" asks Castle, looking surprised and confused.

"No," smiles Kate, getting onto her knees beside him. "This," she adds, leaning over to kiss him, her hand sliding around the back of his neck to hold him to her, fingers lightly stroking the velvety skin behind his ear, as their lips meet softly and then part in welcome.

She's gentle, doesn't want to startle him, but when his fingers brush her cheeks and cup her jaw, she reluctantly pulls away, glancing down at her still-live, accursed phone.

"Just…give me a second," she promises, touching the side of his mouth with her fingertips, sweeping her thumb over his chin, as he looks at her with such fragile, desperate hope in his eyes that her heart aches for him.

"Javi? You still there?" she says, clearing her throat again and running a flustered hand through her hair.

"Sorry about that. Castle and I will meet you there just before six to execute the warrant. Get a team in place and text me Cristobal's address," she instructs, adding, "We need to go in prepared for anything. These guys could be heavily armed," before hanging up.

* * *

"Kate, are you sure about this…?" Castle asks, already reaching for her.

And she's not sure if he means the forthcoming takedown or what they're about to commit to. All she does know is that it's long past time, and she is _so_ certain. She is _so very certain_.

"Shhh," she grins, dropping her phone onto the floor with a dull clatter, and then leaning over him, until he has to support her with his arms.

"Never been more sure of anything," she whispers against his cheek, before kissing him again with a complete unleashing of passion this time, winding her arms up around his neck, as they both moan out in pleasure when their aching bodies collide.

_A/N: Woohoo! We finally got a kiss. Wonder what the next chapter will bring? CastleCrazie, I'm looking at you! Sorry if this one ran too long for you. I know some people are time limited._

_Apologies to anyone who has actually seen Hard Boiled. Kind of had to fudge the story best I could, since I've never watched it myself. Not sure I got the scenes in order. My thanks to IMDB for the trailer._

_Enjoy 'Significant Others' whenever it airs for you! Finally able to say Happy Castle Monday again. Liv_


	5. Chapter 5 Pursue Your Ambitions And Sing

Disclaimer: Don't think they'd let me write this sort of thing if I did.

* * *

_**What If…?**_

_**Warning: M Rated content throughout this chapter**_

* * *

_Recap from Chapter 4: _

_"Kate, are you sure about this…?" Castle asks, already reaching for her._

_And she's not sure if he means the forthcoming takedown or what they're about to commit to. All she does know is that it's long past time, and she is so certain. She is so very certain._

_"Shhh," she grins, dropping her phone onto the floor with a dull clatter, and then leaning over him, until he has to support her with his arms._

_"Never been more sure of anything," she whispers against his cheek, before kissing him again with a complete unleashing of passion this time, winding her arms up around his neck, as they both moan out in pleasure when their aching bodies collide._

* * *

_Chapter 5: Pursue Your Ambitions & Sing_

They kiss for what could be minutes or just mere seconds, it feels so unspeakably intense, both breathing heavily through their noses, neither of them having any inclination or enough self-control left to pull away, captured by the heat and desperate abandonment to the moment.

Castle's hands roam over Kate's back, up and down, fingers exploring every inch of her from her shoulders to the small of her back; kneading, gripping, stroking, cradling, transcribing, while his body moves feverishly under hers.

He breaks them apart finally, moving his mouth from her swollen lips to her neck, grazing her jaw on the way past, panting. Kate arches her back in surprise at the electrifying sensation of his hot, wet mouth open on the smooth slope of her throat, the rasp of his tongue over her skin. But arching into him only brings their lower bodies into deeper contact, and she feels him startle when her pubic bone presses against his growing arousal and his fingers contract fiercely around her upper arms, stilling her.

It's enough to bring them both back to the room and the moment they're in, breaking the spell of transcending lust for a second.

Castle blinks up at her, a shocked expression on his face, and Kate drops her head onto his shoulder, breathing heavily.

* * *

"Are you sure that thing is off?" he asks, warily flicking his eyes to the spot on the floor where her cell phone landed beneath the coffee table.

"We're alone," she reassures him, turning her head until it's lying on the center of his chest, tucked underneath his chin, and she can listen to the galloping beat of his heart.

"So…Espo's really gone?" he asks, each puff of air ruffling her hair.

"Do you want to stop? Maybe wait until he can join us?" she teases, smiling into the soft cotton of his shirt, feeling his thumb rubbing up and down her spine without his permission she's sure.

"_No!_" he stutters in a tone of panic, as if he's five and she means to confiscate his favorite toy.

"Well, then. Ignore my phone," she chides, turning his jaw away, leaning the flat of her hands on his chest and then resting her chin on top so that she's looking up at him, their bodies fully aligned.

The heat between them is incredible, radiating up in waves, warming Kate's face and chest. The buttons on their Henleys rattle and clash with every significant movement of their bodies, breaking the stillness in the empty loft.

"I…I just want to make sure that you know what you're doing," he blurts, mentally slapping himself for all the anxious garbage that keeps popping out of his mouth tonight.

Four years, idiot, he reminds himself. What the hell are you questioning this for now?

"Do I look as if I don't know what I'm doing?" Kate asks coyly, slithering her body up over his to make her point, applying pressure in all the right places, until he groans out loud when she flicks her tongue over his earlobe, and then sucks it into her mouth, nipping the tender flesh with her teeth to make her point.

His hands freeze on her waist, preventing her from moving any further. She could feel with that last maneuver, with the twist of her hips as she slid up over him, that she is so turned on, as if she was unaware before. But she is just so goddam wet for him, so ready, that this first time is not going to last very long unless she tamps down the arousal that's making her ache all over.

Her body is throbbing in places she's pretty sure it has never throbbed before. He smells so good, so familiar, that there is no strangeness being this close to him, other than the intimacy of the position they finally find themselves in, no cuffs or confined trunk space to disguise their intent this time.

This is not like being with the handful of other men she has previously enjoyed 'first times' with; when their bodies were completely unfamiliar, their smell new and confusing, their rhythm out of sync, their touch a completely alien thing. There is no guarantee this will be any less awkward, as they transition from partners and friends to lovers, but they have an amazing head start; four years of pent up passion and denied lust to let go, an intimate knowledge of one another they both barely comprehend the scale of, and right now, that's all Kate can think about.

"No, you seem pretty clear on what you're doing," he agrees tightly, swallowing hard, as he risks letting his lower lip gently graze along her jaw while he still cradles her carefully.

But she can sense that he's holding himself back.

* * *

"Castle," she whispers, capturing his lips with hers once more, moaning loudly into the silence of the loft when his tongue pushes roughly into her mouth and he grasps the back of her head, fingertips massaging her tingling scalp when he lets himself off the leash for a second or two.

But he pulls away again, breathing heavily, and it's confusing her, the need she can clearly see in his eyes, _feel_ in him, has known about for months, and this self-restraint he's instigating now that they're so close.

"Kate, are you sure about this?" he pants, frowning, a pained expression on his face when she looks at him, barely managing to focus on the question and stop her body from writhing against his.

"Castle, stop asking me if I'm sure," she laughs giddily, hiccupping when a revelation strikes. "Are _you_…d-do _you_ have doubts?" she asks, as if this might be an _actual _possibility, as a mental sinkhole opens up around her and her own insecurity comes flooding to the surface.

"_No!_ No way," he shakes his head. "But you are…_sure_, I mean?"

Kate giggles with relief this time, letting herself rest completely on top of him, dropping her forehead onto his shoulder, then pressing a quick kiss to his neck.

"I told you already. So, stop asking me and let's…"

She leaves her suggestion hanging in the small amount of space between them, willing him to pick it up and run with it. She hates that it's her fault he's being this timid, this restrained.

"_Let's…_?" he teases, turning his head to the side so that he can kiss her temple and press his nose against her cheek, absorbing the heady scent of her.

"I want this, Castle," she promises. "_You_. I want you," she says urgently, moving against him again to let him feel just how much she needs him, slipping her thumb under the waist of his sweat pants and stroking the smooth skin at his back.

She can feel his need too, very obviously pressing against her inner thigh, and in the heavy, racing thud of his heart.

* * *

Her phone chimes suddenly, and he jumps in fright, staring down at the illuminate screen as if he expects to see Captain Gates on FaceTime, staring up at them.

"Relax. It'll just be Espo texting Cristobal's address," she soothes, pressing his shoulders back down against the couch. "Relax."

"Kate, we only have a few hours until we have to…"

But Kate cuts his protest off.

"Unless you're trying to tell me you have some sexual superpower I've never heard of, I think the best part of five hours is going to be just fine…for our first time," she adds mischievously.

She's smirking at him, hovering her face close to his, waiting on his response, and he can see a new light in her eyes and that teasing humor he loves. Why the hell is he holding himself back from this?

"Right," he says, trying to sit up with Kate Beckett plastered over his body and an erection so obvious it's embarrassing. And why the hell did he think putting on sweat pants was such a good idea?

"But, if you want to wait…?" Kate suggests, trying to work out why that could possible be a good idea, but giving him the benefit of the doubt.

"No. I…I don't even think I could," he confesses, letting himself look at her again, bashful and apologetic and so obviously aroused by her, before he buries his shamed face in her neck.

She nods in relief, stroking the back of his head, reveling in this chance to finally run her fingers through his hair and hold him close to her.

"I am so glad you said that. Me either," she laughs shakily, covering her mouth with her hand, eyes shining brightly.

"But, hey, we didn't wait four years for this to end up make out on my couch like a couple of teenagers," he says, running his hands up over her sides, feeling the jut of every rib beneath Alexis' thin shirt.

And shit, he just remembered that she's wearing his daughter's clothes. Not cool. Stop thinking about that.

"This palace got a bedroom?" Kate suggests teasingly, brushing her lips over his, letting her warm breath puff intimately over his cheek.

"Please? Yes, bedroom," he repeats, kissing her soundly, before allowing her to tug him up off the couch after her.

* * *

She takes his hand, and he lets her lead him across his own living room and then through the door to his bedroom.

Once they're inside, she lets go, and he watches her from near the door as she surveys his bedroom, taking in her new surroundings: Richard Castle's inner sanctum. She looks back over her shoulder after less than thirty seconds, seeking him out, missing him already, needing to have him close tonight.

She holds out her hand to him again, and he comes over to join her.

"You okay?" he murmurs quietly, thankful he left one lamp on to save on some blind fumbling in the dark.

"Never better. How about you?" she asks, wrapping her arms around his waist, so grateful when he does the same for her.

"Confused," he admits, unable to hide from her anymore.

"Why confused? I thought you wanted this too?"

She's not panicking anymore, just wants to know him, to understand what he's thinking so that they do this properly.

"Kate, you have no idea. No idea how much I want this," he whispers, clinging to her.

"So, why the holding back? What's stopping you?"

"You are," he groans, rubbing his hands up and down her arms, and forcing himself away a little.

"Me?"

"God, yes. If I mess this up, Kate, if I…"

"Castle, just stop," she whispers, halting him with a gentle kiss. "You're not going to mess anything up. We have waited, we've been too careful with one another for too long. So you're not going to mess this up because, correct me if I'm wrong here, but we both want this just as badly. Partners," she says, moving in closer to kiss the exposed skin on his chest where his shirt is lying open, licking the soft hollow below his throat, tasting him for the first time.

This seems to be the key, the magic password, the gesture that counts. And when he kisses her again, it's full of passion, but also grateful, and Rick Castle _really_ knows how to do grateful.

* * *

He finally begins to take more control. He sweeps his thumbs under the hem of her shirt, sighing when he touches the bare expanse of warm skin at her back, and then he decides that this has to go first. So he tugs the shirt up and over her head in one smooth motion, and then he drops it on a nearby chair.

Kate gives him all the latitude he needs to look at her, to admire her, running her hands up and down his arms as he takes his time, grazing every inch of her neck, her shoulders, chest and stomach with his heated, observant, hungry, writer's gaze; memorizing all of her.

"You are even more beautiful than I imagined," he tells her, kissing her tenderly at the juncture of her shoulder and her neck, warm fingers stroking her back.

Kate watches his eyes cloud briefly when he finally brings himself to look at her scar. She reaches back to unfasten the clasp on her bra, shrugging her arms out of the straps, and then letting it fall to the floor so that there is nothing left to obscure his view.

Then she takes his hand and guides it towards her, touches his fingertips to the small, shiny, pink circle between her breasts, and then leaves them there to explore, giving him permission, letting him know that she's made peace with this damaged part of her now, and that it holds no shame for her and should hold no fear for him.

They both know what this mark has meant for them. The good and bad things that came out of it: his declaration of love the most perfect, her self-inflicted seclusion the most damaging besides the hot metal itself that ripped through her heart and almost killed their prospects for good.

He seems to be in awe of her, circling his thumb gently over the repaired skin, as if touching it will heal all that has happened to them, or reveal even more secrets they have yet to share; a magic portal.

"So, so beautiful," he murmurs, eyes shining with pain, until she crushes her chest against his, whispering, "Enough now," in his ear, kissing his jaw while he holds her tightly. "Enough. We've moved past that now."

* * *

Kate needs him to stop being so careful, she needs to see the lust back in his eyes to feel like the woman she knows only he can turn her into. So she mirrors him, lifting his shirt over his head with no further ceremony, uttering a strangled, uncensored, "_Fuck!_" when she witnesses his body up close for the first time.

Castle's neck flushes with pleasure when he sees how turned on this makes her, how she instantly responds to the sight of his body; her nipples puckering, her cheeks flushed, eyes wide and bright, and he feels a renewed pressure down below as his erection reasserts itself fiercely.

Kate wets her lips and runs her hands across his shoulders, raking her eyes over his chest, fingertips delicately tracing the outline of his pecs, the flat plane of his stomach and the smooth tan of his skin. _So much bare skin._ She runs her hands down over his arms, breathing in sharply when she feels the firm swell of his biceps under her palms. God this man. What the hell was she thinking keeping _this_ underwraps for so long?

She glances up at him quickly, flicking her eyes, to find him watching her, looking slightly amused.

"Eager, detective?" he smirks, clearly getting his footing back a little.

Kate doesn't even care that he knows, that he can see what his body is doing to her. He'll probably tease her later, but if he doesn't do something soon, they're both going to burst into flames.

"After four years?" she says, arching her eyebrow, while she runs her fingers around behind his back, dipping under the waistband of his sweatpants. "Figure I'm due."

"Hey, no complaints from me."

"Good. Then you won't mind if I take these off?"

He doesn't reply, just watches her begin to push his pants down over his hips, and as she goes to bend, he catches her elbow and pulls her up against him, capturing her lips for a greedy kiss. He shimmies out of the pants by himself, kicking them off while he ravages her throat with his teeth and tongue.

He's actually completely naked now, but Kate doesn't appreciate this until she runs her hands down over the high swell of his ass, and realizes with a jolting thrill that he wasn't wearing any underwear.

"Commando?" she chokes, pulling away to look down at him, and Castle laughs, stunned by how little she's hiding her interest in his body after years of trying to kill his ego at every turn.

* * *

He looks stunning, she thinks, muscular, tan, his skin so smooth, and then she stares heatedly at the thick, almost brutal looking erection that's pressing against his stomach, bobbing slightly between them.

She lets her eyes drift slowly back up his naked torso until she finds his face again, waiting for her with that beautiful smirk on his face, that crazy, love-filled light in his eyes.

"Take me to bed?" she asks quietly, leading _him_ by the hand before he can even answer her.

She starts to remove her own jeans, working the button loose and then quickly skimming them down over her hips and thighs until she's standing next to his bed in only her underwear.

He gently turns her by the shoulders so that her back is to the mattress. They tangle fingers, their arms hanging loosely by their sides, watching each other's faces intently. Kate's eyes actually drift shut at the merest sensation of his skin touching hers, electricity sparking from their fingertips and running around inside her like St Elmo's Fire.

They begin to touch one another, to explore, fingers trailing carefully over flushed flesh, mapping dips and curves, finding freckles, moles, muscle and bone that has lain hidden for years beneath a screening layer of clothing. It's slow and deliberate, silent and intense, and so erotic that Kate's eyes close again from sheer sensory overload and the heady, dizzying effect of feeling Castle's naked body beneath her hands for the very first time.

His mouth, tenderly exploring her right breast, brings her round, and she slides her hand across his back, holding him close to her while she watches him lick slowly around one puckered nipple and then suck it fully into his mouth. The raw moan he utters against her swollen breast tissue sends a sharp ache shooting to her core, and she has to grip his arm to steady herself.

He repeats the worship of her left breast with the same dedication, reverence, and care, sucking on her tender, darkened areola while he rolls her stiffened, damp, right nipple between his fingers, smiling wickedly when she drops her head to his shoulder in an effort to hold herself together.

* * *

When he breaks away to look at her this time, she sees a change in his eyes, as if a decision has been made, as if he has finally decided that it's time. And she couldn't agree more.

Wordlessly, she drops her own underwear to the floor, so that they are now both naked, and then she eases herself back onto the bed after throwing back the comforter.

She stares at the glistening tip of his erection, transfixed, until Castle kisses her forehead, sliding his hand up her thigh from her knee to her hip, watching the passage of his own fingers as they travel over her skin. He lightly nudges her thighs apart with his knee, and then gently presses her down onto the mattress by her shoulders, placing a feather-light line of kisses up along her neck that has her writhing in sweet ecstasy. She lets her thighs fall further apart, so eager to feel him, fingers gripping the sheets in anticipation.

He steps away for a second, and then she can hear him opening the nightstand drawer and the faint rustle of foil when he withdraws a condom from inside.

"We don't have to use that," she whispers, reaching for his hand and drawing him back towards her.

"You sure?"

Kate nods wordlessly. She slides one hand around behind his ass to bring him closer, stroking up and over his rock-hard buttocks for a few seconds while he stands there staring down at her naked body, definitely not getting used to this sight any time soon.

Finally she wraps her fingers around his wrist and tugs him right to the edge of the bed so that his knees hit the mattress and he's standing between her legs, and then she nods at him again.

* * *

Castle leans over her, resting one hand just above her right shoulder, and she lies back on his sheets, slender body unfurling, calling to him. He slips his hand under the back of her left knee and then slides it all the way up the back of her thigh until he's cradling her buttock, and then he lifts her further onto the bed, moving over her at the same time until he can kneel between her legs.

Kate clings to his shoulder and upper arm, almost climbing his body, arching her hips when he cradles her in one large hand until they can settle together on the middle of the mattress. She wraps one arm around his neck, desperate to feel his naked flesh against her own skin, desperate for the weight of his body to pin her down, desperate to feel him inside her now, now, now.

"Castle," she pants, taking her tongue out of his mouth just long enough to wrap her hand around his erection.

He completely fills her palm; heavy, his thick, wide girth, and so hard it sends a buzz of pain through her lower abdomen as she anticipates finally having him.

He closes his eyes in fierce concentration when Kate sweeps her thumb over the silky tip of his arousal, smearing his juice all around, and when she slides her hand down the length of his shaft, he grunts and then grabs hold of her wrist to make her stop.

She can see from the tortured look on his face that he's as turned on as she is, and neither of them are going to last through much more foreplay this first time.

"Now," she whispers, so that he opens his eyes to look at her. "Castle, now," she repeats, guiding him towards her entrance.

He slips his fingers between her folds, cursing when he feels how wet she is, the evidence of her aroused state coating his fingers when he strokes her silky flesh, and Kate's eyes roll back in her head and she arches completely off the mattress, ecstatic at finally having him touch her like this. And it feels so unbelievably good, so right.

"Please?" she keens, reaching for him again. "Castle, please? I need you inside me," she begs, as he dares to tease her with the dip of first one finger and then two, pushing them slowly inside her and twisting in exquisite torture.

"Oh god," she groans along with him, tightening her muscles around his fingers and beginning to rock her hips uncontrollably against his hand. "Mmm, don't," she begs, her mouth going dry with the effort of holding back.

If he touches her clitoris, she know's it's going to be over far to soon.

Castle can already feel the throb of her aroused body at her entrance, how wet and swollen she is, and it turns him on so much that, foreplay be damned, he needs this too. So he carefully withdraws his fingers, and she cries out, gripping his arm fiercely to hold herself away from the precipice she's teetering on when his fingers slide out of her. Then he nudges her entrance with the thick, hot tip of his erection, watching her face as he succumbs to the ecstasy of finally being able to enter her.

* * *

Kate sucks in a breath, rising up to watch him, transfixed by the sight of him sliding into her, forcing his way in to fill her up completely.

She falls back onto the bed, letting out a strangled sigh of "Oh God", as her body stretches and adjusts to the size of him, pulsating around the hard length of his shaft.

It's been a long, dry spell for Kate. She hasn't been with anyone since she split up with Josh a year ago, and she knows this isn't going to last long. She feels tight and desperate, so worked up and excited by this point, after all the nerves and the teasing and the effects of lying next to him on the couch all night, pretending to watch a movie when she'd much rather have been lying naked in his bed doing this.

She forces herself to stay still for as long as she can, enjoying the sensation of Richard Castle's body joined with hers in the most intimate way possible. But before long she has to move, needs to feel the delicious friction of him sliding in and out of her before she loses control of herself completely.

Castle is watching her carefully through his own haze of lust. As soon as Kate opens her legs wider and begins to rock against him, her fingers pressing into his back, he takes her lead and begins to move with her, gently at first, a long slide in, and then a long slow withdrawal which seems to tease every tingling nerve between them, drawing moans from their lips that fill up the empty, silent bedroom.

Kate hooks her right leg behind his, running her toes up the back of his calf muscle and then up along his thigh, until she settles her ankle in the small of his back, completely opening herself up to him.

He slides a hand under her, dropping his head down to suckle her left breast, holding himself up on one strong arm, cursing when her teeth nip at his shoulder, pain shooting through him like lightening, before she sucks and soothes the tender spot with her lips and tongue.

His body is on fire, so aware of hers, almost overcome with everything that this means for them.

* * *

"Fuck, Kate, you feel sensational," he hisses, thrusting into her harder this time, driving his hips deep, up and into hers.

"More," she urges, arching her body against him, letting out a guttural moan in the back of her throat when the head of his erection nudges as deeply as it can go, stealing the air from her lungs as she clings onto him.

They begin to move faster, more urgency to every thrust, their breaths coming in sharp, burning pants, as the rhythm builds, and they both get closer to tipping over the edge.

"I'm so close," Kate warns him, digging her nails into his buttocks. "So…oh fuck, Castle" she cries, barely hanging on.

"Me too," he reassures her, taking in a deep breath through his nose and closing his eyes tightly, thrusting harder and deeper, trying to hold back for her sake.

"Oh god," Kate screams, biting the tendon at the top of his shoulder, "Castle, I'm gonna come. Fuck me. Fuck me harder?" she pleads, kissing him again, her mouth opening wide as he devastates her with the repeated thrust of his tongue.

He does exactly as she asks, bucking into her, messily eventually, as he wraps his arms tightly around her, holding her against him until they both cry out, falling together. She shudders in his arms, and he feels a flood of relief and joy to be experiencing this with her, finally.

The sheer need on her face, the ecstasy he realizes he's bringing her closer and closer to, and her command to fuck her, all send him over the edge into perfect oblivion, and all he can think as he comes inside her is '_we have to do that again, soon, and then never ever stop_'.

It's a cliché, but Kate does see stars when her orgasm hits. Her body trembles around his, strong tremors that flutter and shake her, sending her somewhere else for what seems like whole minutes, until her body goes limp.

* * *

When she comes round, Castle is draped over her, holding himself slightly off the bed to stop his whole weight from pressing down on her. He's kissing the smooth skin of her shoulder tenderly, and then he lays his head on her chest for a second or two, listening to the racing rhythm of her heart as they both come down from their high.

Then all too soon, he drops a quick kiss to her scar and begins to move off her.

"No," complains Kate, in a moment of unguarded, post-coital honesty, which she knows she'll pay for later. But for now, her defenses are low, and she has an urge to keep telling him how she needs him, all the ways.

"I'm going to crush you, Kate," he chuckles, feeling their sweat slicked bodies slide over one another when he tries to get up again.

"Stay," she asks him again, more coherent this time. "Just for a minute. Please?"

He relaxes slightly, kissing her cheek. "Okay. But just for a minute. You need to sleep."

She cracks one eye open to look at him, a smile breaking out across her face.

"Sleep?" she laughs, shaking them both with the force of it. "You might sleep, I get that, male thing and everything. But there is no way I'm sleeping tonight after that," Kate warns him, arching into him once more, tightening around him while he's still inside her. "I'm way too wired."

"Oh, jeez. I've awoken the beast," he chuckles, rolling off her this time, until they're lying side by side in bed, and Kate is moaning in complaint at the loss of his body on top of hers.

She reaches for his hand, linking their fingers together, and they lie this way in the near dark for a couple of minutes, not speaking. Then she rolls onto her side and leans up on one elbow so that she can watch him, asleep or awake, she doesn't care, she just has to be able to look at him, to be able to see what they've finally achieved after all this time.

"You're really not going to sleep, are you?" he grins, quickly checking the clock on his nightstand.

They have an hour and a half before they have to get up and get ready to go to the address Esposito sent them.

"I'm too excited," she whispers, smiling like a small child expecting a visit from Santa.

"You're adorable is what you are," says Castle, rolling over to kiss her, sliding his hand behind her neck and his knee between her thighs, stroking his tongue against hers until she's groaning again and reaching for him.

* * *

They give up on sleep after round two: a slow, sensual, protracted affair that curls Kate's toes and leaves the biggest, '_I've just had the best sex of my life'_ grin on her face.

"We have a little under an hour, Kate," Castle warns her, whispering into her hair, as they lie together, resting.

"Shower then coffee?" she suggests, turning in his arms so that she can see his face again, needing to see him all the time tonight to convince herself that they are actually in this now.

He kisses her cheek and presses his forehead to hers, eyes blurring on the soft lines of her face.

"You start the shower and I'll come in and join you, if I may? I'll go put the coffee on."

"More the merrier," she grins, kissing him back, her face so relaxed and glowing, even in the meager light from one small lamp.

"Are you sure you're not drunk?" he teases, poking her in the side until she squeaks and tries to squirm away from him. "No, come back here," he protests, wrapping his arms around her waist and easily dragging her across the sheets, laughing, until her back collides with his chest.

"I am in complete control of my faculties," she declares, snuggling back against him. "Even if can't get this ridiculous grin off my face. Now, go make my coffee, Castle," she demands, pushing him out of bed.

Once he's gone, after she watches the retreat of his amazing, naked body from the bedroom, she lies back against the mattress and stretches like a cat until her muscles cramp and she relaxes completely again, exhausted.

They have finally made it, she thinks, grabbing hold of a pillow and burying her face into it's downy depths to muffle the squeal that she can't keep inside anymore, as she beats her heels against the sheets in sheer delight.

* * *

_A/N: I know this took me a while to update and I'm sorry. It will not be to everyone's taste, I'm sure. But CastleCrazie, I hope this was up to your standards at least, since you've been begging forever. One chapter to go, I think. Would be good to hear from you. I'll just be hiding…over there. Liv_


	6. Chapter 6 Shower Me With Compliments

Disclaimer: Wouldn't get to write this either...

* * *

_**What If…?**_

_**More M Rated Content. Not suitable for reading at work!**_

_Chapter 6: Shower Me With Compliments, Shower Me With Love_

_(Or as Castle calls this chapter: 'Just Shower With Me')_

When Castle returns to the bedroom carrying two steaming cups of strong coffee, he notices immediately that he can't hear the shower running. In fact, he can't hear anything at all.

He saunters into the room still naked, almost whistling to himself he's feeling so chipper even though it's barely five o'clock in the morning, and then he comes to a dead stop when he sees his partner laid out in his bed, a sheet drawn up to her waist, pillow discarded by her side…_sleeping like a baby!_

Her face is wonderfully serene, a willo' the wisp of a smile playing at her sensual mouth. She hair is spread over the pillow on one side, curls tumbling over her forehead and obscuring one eye where she's turned her head to face Castle's empty side of the bed.

He has never really had the opportunity to watch her sleep before, and certainly not in his own bed. She looks so soft and unguarded, her dark lashes feathered down over the swell of her cheekbones, her skin pale, lipstick long worn off by the ravages of his mouth on hers the night before.

He pads closer to get a better look, quietly depositing the coffee cups on the nightstand.

Looking at her like this is close to overwhelming, feelings of love rather than lust filling his heart to the brim. Last night still feels like a dream he's going to wake up from, something ephemeral that will disappear when he tries to hold onto the memory too tightly. So this concrete proof that she is still here, that they spent the whole night together, and that they're making plans for this new day as if nothing about that is strange or unusual, fills him up with joy.

* * *

But coming back to his current problem: Detective Kate Beckett is asleep in his bed, they have a warrant to serve on a bad guy in less than an hour and both of her colleagues are expecting to meet them at this address just before the takedown, where there will be a team on site for back-up and Gates running point from the One-Two, no doubt.

So, what exactly _is_ the protocol in this situation, he wonders? She looks so serene, so deeply asleep. Should he awake her? And if so, how does one wake one's…what even are they this morning? Partners still, no doubt, but is she his girlfriend? Not a one-night stand surely, but, are they friends with benefits? They haven't talked about any of this stuff, about what comes next, and…

Okay, Rick, breathe, he counsels himself, mesmerized by the rise and fall of Kate's chest…her _very naked chest_.

He decides he needs to take a minute, and he doesn't want to leave her looking so exposed, so he gently draws the sheet a little higher over her body, leaving just her shoulders bare, and then he turns away to go and use the bathroom, shaking his head, never imagining he'd see the day when _he_, Richard Castle, playboy extraordinaire, would be _covering up_ Kate Beckett's naked body.

* * *

He uses the bathroom, washes his hands, brushes his teeth, splashes cold water on his face, and then stares in the mirror at himself, casting a critical eye over his own body.

He's not exactly buff, he knows, as he turns to the side, sucking in his gut a little as he checks out his own profile. He has been slacking a bit in the gym department lately, especially when depression struck over the state of his relationship, or non-relationship, with a certain female detective who is now sleeping not too far from him right now.

But Kate seemed pretty enthusiastic, pretty obviously turned on, when she saw him naked for the first time last night. She had blurted out "_Fuck!_" in fact, he thinks proudly, giving himself a more favorable once-over in the mirror, when she stripped his shirt off, and then when she tossed his pants…

He grins at himself in the mirror, full-on preening now.

Yeah, _best night ever!_

Castle rubs a hand over the dark growth at his jaw, rasping the bristles that he knows he is not going have time to deal with this morning. He spots several red marks around his neck, particularly over his Adam's apple, where Kate's teeth must have lingered, and there's a pretty livid bite impression on his right shoulder that he's fairly certain CSU would have no trouble tracing back to Kate. He touches it gingerly, nodding to himself with pride at this badge of honor, this little reminder, if any were needed, that he made Kate Beckett lose control last night…_more than once!_

When he steps back from such close inspection, he sees the dark circles under his eyes from an entire night spent without sleep, and again he grins to himself. Since it has been a long time for him since an entire night without sleep meant an entire night having sex, and never before with Kate. If he were entirely alone right now, he would be dancing, dancing his lucky little socks off.

But, first, back to sleeping beauty…

* * *

He leaves the bathroom to go and check on Kate. She is still sound asleep, and looking entirely too adorable now that she has rolled onto her side and tucked her hands under her cheek.

But she'll kill him if they're late for this bust, and he would really like the opportunity to stay in one piece right now, in the hope that he can persuade her back to his place tonight for a little follow-up research.

So he approaches quietly, so as not to startle her, and then he tenderly sweeps the hair out of her eye and off her forehead. She stirs slightly, and he steps back a little in panic, before reminding himself that he's _supposed_ to be waking her up, not letting himself stare at her until she wakes all by herself to find him towering creepily over her…_butt naked._

"Kate," he whispers, sitting down next to her on the bed, covering up his…_m-modesty_ with the corner of the sheet.

"Mmm," she moans quietly, burrowing deeper into the pillow, and bringing a tender smile to his lips in the process.

"Kate, time to wake up," he sings quietly, smoothing his fingers over her bare shoulder and down her naked back, experiencing yet another surge of love in his chest for this woman, when he feels the warmth of her body under his hand.

"Castle?" she whispers, sounding a little confused, and he has a moment of panic, when his heart leaps into his throat that she's going to look at him sitting on the edge of the bed, naked as the day he was born, and she's going to scream out in horror, declare that last night was all a huge mistake and can they please just forget about it and go back to how things were before.

If she says anything in the vaguest regions of this he will be crushed, because after last night, there is no going back for him, only forward, forward, forward and more, more, more.

But all she says, with the sleepiest inflection in her voice, is, "What time is it?" and then, "Is that coffee I can smell?" once her eyes finally blink open and she smiles up at him.

"Time you were in the shower, I'm afraid," he says apologetically, handing her the cup of coffee as she struggles to a sitting position, completely ignoring the sheet he strategically placed over her chest when it slips back down to her waist again once she's upright.

The woman has absolutely _no_ body issues he's discovering, no hang-ups, and he absolutely loves that, had no idea that she would be this open with him…immediately. In fact, if last night is anything to go by, she revels in her ability to turn him into quivering pile of goo with the barest swing of her hips or a slow bat of her dark and dangerous lashes.

She sips the coffee for a quiet second, and then hands him her cup, running her fingers through her tousled hair and raising her already perky breasts even higher in the process.

He's so flustered by this half-naked vision of all he's been yearning for for the best part of four years finally sitting up in his bed, that he takes a quick swig of coffee from Kate's cup, completely forgetting his own.

"Sharing coffee already?" she points out, nodding in his direction, and he freezes with the porcelain halfway from his lips. "You'd better get a taste for sugar-free vanilla in that case, Castle," she teases lightly, taking the cup from him again, and draining the rest of the contents.

And bizarrely, this might be one of the most intimate moments he thinks he has ever shared with any woman.

* * *

Kate nudges him off the bed so that she can get up, and once they're both standing, she gives him a very heated, _very_ _slow_ once over.

"Looks even better in daylight," she comments flippantly, before turning away to saunter into the bathroom with a mischievous grin on her face.

Castle trails after her like an obedient puppy, but she closes the bathroom door in his face, calling out, "I draw the line at letting you watch me pee," so that his face goes bright red.

He hears the shower being turned on, and then the barest of mellifluous notes when Kate starts to sing something he can't quite hear, and before long, the door is thrown wide again and he is apparently permitted to enter his own en suite once more.

Kate is hovering in front of the vanity mirror, in a pose vaguely reminiscent of his own from just a few moments ago.

She's touching her fingers to her neck, and when he stands behind her, he sees what she's examining: a red and purple mark that must have come courtesy of yours truly the night before.

He braces himself for a telling-off, a flash of anger, some rebuke about how she can't go in to work with a giant love bite on her neck. But it never comes. She just grins back at him and then sighs, turning away from the mirror to wrap her arms around his torso and kiss his bare chest, and it's such a natural, loving gesture that it kind of takes his breath away.

* * *

"I'm gonna need your help this morning," she says, kissing his neck now, as she moves in even closer, pressing her impressively flat stomach against his hip.

"Name it. It's yours," he croaks, feeling himself responding with embarrassing speed to having her this naked and this close to him, draped all over him in fact, his writer's brain helpfully supplies.

"I have some cosmetics in my purse, but…does Alexis have any concealer, do you know?"

"Uh, concealer? Sure, she has a ton of stuff up in her bathroom. Why don't you just go up there and help yourself after you shower?"

"After _we_ shower," corrects Kate, smoothing her hand across the firm plane of his chest, down over his stomach, and then even lower, until suddenly she's stroking the hard outline of his cock.

"Uh, Kate…?" he chokes, dropping his eyes down to watch her caress his still growing erection with complete and utter fascination.

"Mmm?" she hums, letting her clever fingers skim below the base to tease the soft, sensitive skin underneath.

"_Sweet Jesus!_" he curses, rising up on tiptoe in response to this unexpected invasion.

"Something the matter, Castle?" she smirks, kissing his shoulder, as she returns to smoothing her hand up and down his shaft with a rhythm that he's finding hard to resist joining, while she tightens her grip around him.

He manages to stop himself from pumping against her fisted hand, but only barely. And it seems Kate is not to be dissuaded. She draws him over to the shower stall, by his wrist thankfully, and then backs him inside.

It is a _huge_ shower cubicle. In fact, you would have no problem fitting the Giant's entire offensive line-up in here, it's so huge, and there's a small bench built into one side, which Kate immediately has her eye on.

"Do we even have time for this?" squeaks Castle, watching Kate hungrily as she lets the spray from the shower start to run over her back and shoulders and then cascade down her entire body, sparking off her breasts as it hits the raised peaks of her nipples when she throws her head back in what looks suspiciously like ecstasy, her eyes fluttering closed on a throaty moan as the warm water soaks through her hair turning it almost black.

"Things would progress a whole lot faster if you weren't standing way over by the door," she says coyly, holding out her hand to him, while chewing her lip with just the barest hint of shyness and uncertainty.

* * *

Well, if _she_ doesn't want to hurry, who is he to clock watch. He's only the Civilian Investigator after all, so what does he know about takedown protocol. Kate Beckett is naked in his shower, and she wants to have sex with him…_again!_ So, who the hell is he to knock her back?

"Oh god, you feel so good," she murmurs, kissing him while she turns him around until he is the one standing under the spray from the large rainfall showerhead.

"Seriously?" he mumbles against her lips, skimming his hands up and down her back, cupping her deliciously pert ass. "You too."

"Mmm, come over here," she growls, taking his hand again and leading him closer to the little bench.

She guides his hand between her legs without any preamble, and Castle nearly yelps when he feels the slick of slippery wetness that's waiting for him.

"Holy fuck," he whispers, surging against her mouth, while his flattened fingers begin to slide back and forth between her silky folds.

Kate starts to moan loudly, clinging onto his shoulder and side, as she rocks her hips over his hand, breathing heavily.

She opens her eyes, checks behind her and then raises one leg up to place her foot flat on the bench, immediately opening her legs wider and exposing more of herself to him.

Castle is so lost in touching her, occasionally dipping his fingers inside her, his mouth hotly sucking on her breast, that it comes as a bit of a shock when she pants breathlessly in his ear, "We don't have much time. Need you. I need you inside me."

Then her fingers are grasping his erection again, guiding him towards her, before everything becomes kind of a blur of blinding arousal and uncontrolled lust.

* * *

He pushes into her quickly this time, stifling her gasp of surprise with his mouth and the hot intrusion of his tongue, and then they begin rocking together immediately, the rhythm much faster and more urgent than the night before.

Kate wraps one arm around his neck and braces her free hand behind her against the cream tile, while they fuck, the only word for it, fast and furiously under the jet of steaming hot water.

"This is so freakin' hot," exclaims Kate at one point, laughing as she arches her hips up to meet every thrust, beautifully breathless and giddy, her cheeks flushed from the heat and exertion, while he watches her abs clench and contract with equal parts envy and admiration.

He's assuming she doesn't mean the water is hot, more that they are, and as he feels her getting closer, her movements slowing as she grinds fully against him, clenching her inner muscles tightly around him, he lets her set the pace so that she gets exactly what she needs to come first this time.

"Mmm," she hums again, licking her lips. "I'm almost there, Castle. Touch me," she whispers, plucking distractedly at his arm.

Castle lets his fingers trail down over her stomach, leaving her breast with some regret, and then he presses the heel of his hand into the soft hollow of her abdomen, just above her pubic bone, while his index finger slides lower, parting her folds a little to find the tight nub of nerves of her swollen clit.

"Oh, yes, right on the money," she grits, clenching her teeth, as he begins to circle slowly, brushing the slightly uneven texture made by every arch and whorl of his fingertip over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

He can still feel how wet she is, despite the water from the shower washing over them, the slick, clear, gel of her arousal coating his fingers and easing the path across her swollen flesh.

She drops her head into the crook of his neck when the inevitable wave hits her, clinging to him for support, her mouth open on the soft skin covering muscle and tendons, and the water sloshes over them both, shooting out sideways to spray the walls on either side of the shower.

"Oh, god, Rick," she cries out, nails digging into his back, as he begins to feel her buck and flutter and then still when her orgasm hits hard.

He doesn't need any other prompting to finish off himself. One look at the ecstasy on her face, one glance at her seriously hot body clinging to his and then the shudder that passes though her as her climax reaches it's peak, and he is _gone._

* * *

He feels Kate's lips brushing breathlessly against his own, her tongue licking at the seam of his mouth and then entering to stroke softly inside as he flexes his fingers on her hips, preventing her from moving while he spills inside her, over and over.

He lets out a slow breath once the peak of his climax passes, and comes round to feel her fingers massaging his scalp, while she gracefully lowers her leg down from the bench to stand on two feet once more.

"Best morning ever," he whispers stupidly, kissing her lightly.

"No arguments here," she whispers, kissing him back. "Except we might now be really late," she adds, biting her lip and cringing a little.

"Whatever I can do to help. Just let me know."

"Shampoo and conditioner would be a start," she says, glancing around.

"Here," says Castle, handing her some fancy European brand that smells of citrus and him, and that it faintly excites her to be using so soon.

"Let me soap up real quick and I'll get out of your way," he offers, grabbing a large bar of creamy soap from the dish that's built into the wall, beginning to lather it between his hands immediately.

Kate watches him for a beat or two, holding the shampoo bottle in her hands, a kind of stunned smile on her face.

"What?" asks Castle, blushing and hesitant, as he begins to spread the creamy foam across his chest and under his arms, working quickly and vigorously.

He looks down at his own body to see what she might be looking at, to check that nothing is awry. But everything seems normal, and when he looks up at her again she's still smiling.

"Kate?" he laughs, embarrassed now, and feeling self-conscious. "What are you…? You're _staring_," he exclaims, still laughing nervously.

"Mmm. At you," she agrees, coming towards him.

She kisses his jaw, the side of his mouth, playfully nudges her nose against his, and then scoops a large mound of foam off his chest and begins rubbing it over her own breasts.

"Oh, you are too much. _Way_ too much," he laughs, spanking her on the ass when she turns her back on him with a mischievous grin.

"Hey, you wanted it. We opened Pandora's box, Castle. No going back now," she tells him with the sauciest smile he's ever seen, before pouring shampoo into her palm and bending forwards to begin washing her hair.

* * *

They hurry around one another, trying to get ready as fast and as efficiently as they can.

Kate applies what little make-up of her own she has with her, everything except her liquid liner unfortunately, which leaves her looking younger and less wide-eyed than she normally looks. Her hair gets toweled dry quickly and then she fixes it into a tousled bun, pinning it in place with some bobby pins she managed to find in a zipper pocket in her purse.

They throw on clothes in kind of a random fashion. Even Castle's normally fastidious attire is thrown together, though he does draw the line at donning the grey sweat pants from the night before.

Kate borrows underwear from Alexis' clean laundry and makes Castle swear to _never ever_ tell his daughter that she did so, on pain of never having sex with her again. Though he secretly thinks that not even _she_ would be able to hold to that promise if required.

They finally meet at his front door with ten minutes to spare, breathing heavily, looking a little frazzled and a whole lot sleep-deprived.

"Oh god. We are totally busted when they see us," says Kate, giving them both the once over.

"What makes you say that?" asks Castle suspiciously, running a nervous hand through his already perfect hair.

"We look like we've been up all night fucking each other's brains out is why," Kate tells him candidly, as if pointing out something blindingly obvious, which she obviously thinks this is.

"Nah," says Castle, shaking his head as he grabs his keys and opens the front door for her. "Don't worry. Relax. You are _over_ thinking this, Kate. No one will even notice."

_Ah, such famous last words…_

* * *

_A/N: Wow! So y'all loved the last chapter! I did as instructed and took my laptop into hiding so that I could keep writing, and as it turned out, they obviously weren't quite finished…eh…enjoying one another yet, so I'm afraid the story still has a little more to go, as usual with me. _

_Thank you for your support once again. Probably one more chapter left…I think. But please don't hold me to that. Liv_


	7. Chapter 7 Everything That Defines Us

Disclaimer: Think they might have fired me by now.

* * *

_**What If…?**_

_Chapter 7: Everything That Defines Us_

They are both a little quiet on the car ride over to Cristobal Santiago's address. Nervous glances are exchanged every few blocks and the radio plays unnoticed in the car, the announcer warning of Midtown traffic snarl-ups around construction on Broadway and a possible jumper on the tracks delaying the two-train over at Lincoln Center. But neither of them takes any of it in, completely lost in their own thoughts.

At one stoplight, Kate takes the opportunity to brush her fingers lightly over Castle's thigh, just needing to reconnect with him for a second.

"No regrets?" she asks him, smiling wanly.

Her hair is drying in a wavy corona around her bun and the nape of her neck, and her face looks younger than usual without the dark definition of liner on her eyelids and lashings of seductive mascara.

"_Regrets?_" Castle coughs, "Are you kidding me? Kate, last night was _amazing._ Never mind last night, this morning was beyond my wildest dreams. And I know we haven't talked about…well, _anything_ really. About how this is going to work or…"

"Castle, relax," she tells him, patting the back of his hand when the traffic begins to move again and she has to put her hands back on the wheel.

"There's no rush to define this thing. I just wanted to make sure that we were both on the same page, that's all," she says gently, giving him another quick look before signaling to turn right and change lanes.

He nods blankly at her, feeling something incredibly heavy settle on his chest, threatening to crush him.

* * *

'_No rush to define this thing?'_

Her words run round and around his head on a torturous loop for the rest of the short trip over to an closed down, illegal gaming club that sits on the corner of Pearl Street and Saint James' Place in the shadow of a red brick Housing Authority tower block.

_Define it?_ He'd get down on one knee and put a ring on it right now if he thought there was any earthly chance of her saying yes. Hell, he'd do it if he thought she'd say '_maybe_'. He wants to define this so badly, and quickly. He's done with casual and meaningless and for god's sake, he _loves her_.

And then it strikes him that she maybe, quite possibly, still does not know this. He went into last night certain of how he feels about her, he already took the risk and gave voice to his feelings a long time ago, and so in his mind, she gave herself to him already knowing this and hopefully feeling the same.

Suddenly his doubts are back, and he's not sure _how_ she feels. Clearly, she cares about him. He can feel it in her touch, her openness, her tenderness, her teasing and small kindnesses. But as for love, he likes to believe that he sees it in her eyes at odd moments, can read it in her face, her smile. But he has no further proof than that.

* * *

"We're meeting the guys over there," says Kate, capturing his attention once more, as she steers the car over to the curb a block from the building their target has been living in, along with a couple of henchmen and a vicious looking dog, if the early reports they have are accurate.

She spots Ryan and Esposito's unit facing towards them a few cars up on the opposite of the street when Ryan flashes his headlights.

"I'm gonna call them, figure out the plan. Four cops out on the street's gonna look too suspicious in this neighborhood this early in the day. So we'll sit tight for now."

Castle hears her say 'four cops', an innocent mistake born of tiredness and adrenalin now that they're in position. But he lets it go, doesn't correct her or look for some kind of validation as he usually would. He feels flattened and has to keep reminding himself of what they just did, how _she_ drove them forwards last night, to buoy up his spirits.

"Hey, Espo," she says into the phone, leaning against Castle's shoulder so that they can both hear the call. His heart starts to thunder having her this close.

"Yeah, he's here with me," she tells him, eyes scanning the quiet street, not yet alive with much activity in this area of Manhattan; down on the Lower East Side, in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge and the government housing projects, where unemployment is high and the need to join the crush on MTA every morning to get to a job is a luxury few people get to have.

"What? All night?" she asks, giving Castle a quick glance. "And nothing so far? They're certain no one's in there?"

Kate looks over at the target building, watches a couple of pigeons mindlessly peck and bob their way around a storm drain, before she turns her attention back to the call.

"And we have no other possible addresses for this guy? Dario Santos was _sure_ this was where he runs his operation out of?"

Kate sighs in frustration, and then tucks a tendril of hair behind her ear where it has sprung loose from her bun as it dried.

"Fine. Look, okay. Yes. Let's leave the detail in place for now. There's…uh…there's a coffee shop a couple of blocks from here, over on Madison Street. Capaldi's. Yeah, that's it. We'll meet you there and figure out our next move."

* * *

Kate hangs up the call and fires up the engine, raising her hand to Ryan as the other two detectives cruise past them.

"What's happening?" asks Castle, watching Kate pull out into the near empty street and immediately pull a U-turn to follow the boys.

"Cristobal's digs are empty, apparently. Gates had someone sitting on his place since Santos gave the address up last night. No one's home right now. So the guys have stood down our backup for the time being. We're gonna leave surveillance on this dump while we grab a coffee and figure out a new plan."

They pull up to the small Italian coffee shop several parking spots behind Ryan. Castle makes to get out of the car, but Kate stops him with a light hand on his arm.

"Be prepared for them to…to…" she falters, frowning, searching for the right expression, the right words.

"To what?" asks Castle, still preoccupied with her comment about not needing to define this new thing of theirs.

"To spot the difference in us," she finally settles on, looking at him nervously. "They're detectives, it's what they do," she offers with a shrug, when Castle stares at her.

"And what exactly _is_ that difference?" he asks, really pushing his luck, since he can see Esposito already walking towards their car.

"You are kidding, right?" asks Kate, flicking her eyes to her approaching colleague and then back to Castle.

"I just want to be clear on what this means…" he halts, biting his lip, "…for us. What it means for us, Kate."

"Castle, he's coming over here right now. This isn't the time."

"Fine. Then give me a time and we can talk about it."

"We just spent the night together. Doesn't that say enough for you?"

"I'm a writer, Kate. What can I tell you? I like words, I like labels, I like def-i-ni-tion," he says, giving weight to every single syllable.

"I am _not_ having this conversation with you right now, while Espo and Ryan hover outside. Not to mention there's still some drug dealer on the loose, that we have an open warrant to bring in."

"Great. We're having our first fight and it's not even…" he looks at his watch, "…forty minutes since we got out of the shower. That has got to be some kind of record, even for me."

"Why are you being such a jerk about this?"

"A jerk?" he gasps, sucking in a breath. "I just want to know where things stand between us. That's all. Is this a onetime thing for you or some 'partners with benefits' arrangement, or…" he shrugs exaggeratedly, suddenly at a loss, and hating this flare of anger that's surged up between them and is actually more about his own fears and insecurities.

Kate narrows her eyes at him and crosses her arms over her chest, squeezing the car keys in the palm of her hand until it hurts. She can still feel the boys hovering nearby, so she waves them into the café after holding up five fingers to indicate that they'll be right in, that they just need a minute.

* * *

"Partners with benefits?" she snorts, smiling for the first time since they left the loft. "What are you _Chandler Bing_, all of a sudden?"

"Kate, I am terrible at this part," he says, faltering. "Last night, _and _this morning, meant _a lot_ to me, in case you haven't figured that out already. I don't want to mess things up between us by making wrong assumptions and pissing you off, and…I couldn't stand to watch you walk away this time."

"I'm not going anywhere, okay," she says, taking his hand. "And I'm pretty sure you're no worse at this than I am. In fact, I'd put money on it. What do you need to hear from me? Hmm?" she asks, more gently this time.

"That…" Castle sighs, wracking his brains for an elegant solution to this age-old Manhattanite problem; one that won't freak her out or scare her off.

"That we are both officially off the market," he tells her, focusing on the feel of her hand in his while he waits for her reply, holding his breath.

Kate drops his hand and opens the door to get out of the car.

"If you take out an ad in The Ledger, I am never speaking to you again," she tells him, grinning as she exits the vehicle and then slams the door.

His grin is even broader as he follows her across the sidewalk and into the café.

"Never aim lower than the New York Times, Detective," he grins, opening the door for her. "Always knew you were a classy gal."

* * *

Kate pauses in the doorway to the café, something left to say.

"Look, when we get inside, Castle, just act normal. Okay? If that's even possible for you," she jokes.

"I can do _normal_," he protests.

"Then take your hand off my ass," she smirks, staring over her shoulder.

"_New_ normal," grins Castle, leaving his hand where it is.

"_Rick_," hisses Kate sternly, digging her elbow into his stomach.

"Fine," he sighs, dropping his hand and following her inside.

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

Inside the café, Ryan and Esposito are seated by the window watching their two friends talking in the car outside.

"What d'you suppose has got mom and dad so jazzed this morning?" asks Esposito, sliding his shades up on top of his head.

"Jazzed? What do you mean jazzed?" asks Ryan, peering out through the glass past a Peroni Nastro Azzurro Italian beer sticker.

"Just look at them, faces so intense, way they're turned towards each other. They've got to be talking about something important."

"Maybe he's telling her about his kid's graduation?" suggests Ryan. "She _was_ giving a speech. Pretty big deal if you're a dad like Castle."

"What? Anointed?" snorts Esposito. "That girl practically raised herself by all accounts. In fact, I think she raised him too."

The two men chuckle, fist bumping each other when the young waitress brings their coffee over.

"And last night," continues Esposito, like a bloodhound on a scent trail, "I could have sworn Beckett was with someone when I called her."

"Like that's any of our business," says Ryan, flicking a packet of brown sugar against the tabletop to break up the lumps.

"Yeah, well, I figure it is, if that guy is our man, Castle," says Esposito, pointing out of the window at Beckett's car, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Ryan snorts derisively, tipping the sugar into his cup, and then he turns around to look over his shoulder at Kate's car while he stirs his coffee.

"Dude, you'd better hope that glass is tinted."

"The way they're going at it. They wouldn't notice if Cristobal and his ugly-ass dog walked right up to that car right now. Wait. Is she holding his hand?" yelps Esposito, leaning forward in his seat to get a better look.

Ryan's view is obscured, so he ignores this last observation in favor of a little interrogation.

"So, uh," he says a little shiftily, lowering his voice, "what makes you think it might have been Castle?"

"Thought you weren't interested, bro?"

"Well, if it's _Castle_…" he shrugs, as if this is obvious.

"My point exactly," nods Esposito, with a grin and a raised eyebrow. "So, she was going over there last night for a John Woo double feature after Little Castle's graduation. Stop our boy out there from gettin' all depressed or somethin'."

"What about his mom?"

"Martha's in the Hamptons," declares Esposito, showing off now.

"Dude, how do you know all of this stuff anyway?" asks Ryan, licking his teaspoon.

"Lanie might have…said somethin'," he confesses with a smirk.

"Ah, the lovely Dr. Parish," nods Ryan sagely. "So we know where _you_ were last night," he grins. "And Beckett left us when?"

"After half past eight."

"Hmm. And you called her at…what? Twenty to midnight?"

"Mmm-hmm," hums Esposito, nodding his head slowly.

"How'd she sound?"

"Like she was sleeping and I woke her up."

"So, maybe she was home sleeping? You ever think of that?"

"She said she wasn't."

"What, you _asked her?_" squeaks Ryan in surprise.

"Her voice was all funny. Scratchy, like when you first wake up or somethin'. _And_ she put me on hold," he adds, as if this is proof positive.

"Oh, _on hold?"_ nods Ryan sagely, as if this means something important._ "_Why didn't you say that before?" he adds sarcastically, rolling his eyes to mock his partner.

"Y'uh-huh. And when she came back on, she told me they would both meet us here this morning, as if she'd just spoken to Castle," he says triumphantly, holding up his hand to high-five his partner.

"Hey, come on. That's a pretty big leap. Wasn't it just a couple of weeks ago that Castle was running around with that Slaughter guy and they were through for good?"

"Lot can happen in a few weeks, bro. You saw how they were working that zombie case together, all flirty little glances, like she thought he was hot in all that freaky make-up or somethin'."

The door to the café opens before Ryan has a chance to argue a rebuttal. Beckett and Castle walk in rather close to one another. Kate's cheeks are pink and Castle has a real shit-eating grin on his face; like the cat that got the canary.

"Shut up. Here they come," warns Esposito, when Ryan opens his mouth to argue back.

* * *

"Hey, guys," says Kate, trying for breezy and natural, but coming off sounding so tightly wound that it's quite possible her head is about to fly off at any second.

She slides in beside Ryan on one side of the table, meaning Castle is forced in beside Esposito on the opposite side, so that they end up facing one another.

And if being side-by-side in a booth would have been awkward this morning, what with body heat and Castle's wandering hands to contend with, sitting opposite the person you just slept with for the first time after four years of suppressed sexual tension and angst is somehow _way worse_.

Kate can't meet Castle's eyes at first, fearing one look will give them both away, and so when he stands to take off his coat and offers to take hers to hang them both on a nearby hook, she startles so badly that her knee hits the underside of the table, sending Ryan's coffee cup dancing and rattling a few inches away, the muddy looking coffee sloshing around the sides of the white cup like the water in Hugh Hefner's hot tub.

"You okay, Beckett?" asks Esposito, with a smirk that is too knowing by far.

"What?" asks Kate distractedly, smoothing her hands down the front of her jeans to steady herself. "Oh, yeah. Fine," she says, flicking her eyes to her partner when he slides in opposite her again.

"Are…are you guys wearing _matching shirts_ this morning?" sniggers Esposito, looking at the pair of them afresh and instantly alerting his partner to do the same.

They're both wearing the Henleys they had on the night before, since they got dressed in such a rush this morning after their extended shower. Kate's white shirt is still hanging in Castle's laundry room drying, so she's wearing Alexis' dark grey cotton shirt, and Castle plucked his black Henley off a chair and threw it over his head without thinking, his mind still on…_other things_ at the time.

Kate is mortified but tries to hide it with a sharp rebuke.

"What are you Tyra Banks now?" she asks tartly.

"Just sayin'," smirks Esposito, completely unaffected by her tone. "Team colors. No, I like it. _Yo, Kev!_ We should do that, bro," he tells Ryan, kicking his partner under the table.

* * *

The café is a daytime cop-hangout, since it's less than a block from One PP, and at this early hour there are several tables taken up by uniforms fresh off the nightshift; young, fit men, tucking into platefuls of eggs and bacon, grunting to one another over the sports pages of The Post and arguing about the Knicks or the Yankees, overtime, and nagging girlfriends.

"Did you want to order something?" asks Esposito, looking at the empty table in front of Kate and Castle. "We weren't sure when you guys would be comin' in," he says pointedly.

"Didn't want your coffee going cold," Ryan adds, trying to smooth things over, giving Esposito a look.

The waitress appears at this point: a pretty, dark-haired teen with huge brown eyes and eyebrows to match. When she smiles at Castle, she opens her mouth wide, only to display an unfortunate array of orthodontistry that must be costing her parents a small fortune.

They both order coffee, and then settle back in the booth to await their delivery.

The air is heavy with the weight of everything the partners are not saying and everything Ryan and Esposito are thinking, but not saying.

"So, eh, how'd Alexis' graduation speech go over, Castle?" asks Ryan, trying to ease the tension a little.

"Great. Thanks, Kev," says Castle, his face lighting up for a moment. "My girl did me proud," he adds, looking at Kate's shirt and wishing he could just imagine her naked, instead of seeing his little girl wearing the Henley his partner currently has stretched over her seriously hot body.

* * *

Their coffee arrives, and the noisy, clattering fuss of the cream and sugar ritual breaks the silence for a little while. Castle strokes his day-old growth while he stirs his coffee, and Kate feels her skin start to prickle at the rasping sensation of his fingertips over his own jaw, finding herself wishing it was her tongue and teeth slowly working their way over the shaggy dark scruff.

"Beckett, you okay?" asks Ryan this time. "Y-you look a little tired," he qualifies.

Castle coughs, pulling out a handkerchief to pat his mouth and Kate stares at him wide-eyed.

"Left my mascara off this morning. Conjunctivitis," she mumbles, tapping her spoon against the side of her cup, as if this vague offering explains everything.

They start to talk about the case and this morning's setback. Ryan and Esposito begin arguing back and forth over who got the DA to sign off on the warrant so quickly.

"Stop smiling so much," hisses Kate, leaning forwards over the table and nudging Castle's foot with her own.

"Can't help it," he hisses back, shutting up when he feels the other two detectives' awareness shift back to the table.

"We need to lean on that punk, Santos, again. Tell him the deal's off the table unless he comes up with better intel this time," suggests Esposito.

"You think he's lying?" asks Castle. "With everything that's at stake?"

"Eight years inside instead of fifteen to life?" says Kate, looking Castle in the eye for the first time since they sat down. "Strong incentive not to lie, unless he thinks some of Cristobal's men are gonna get to him on the inside for giving up their boss."

* * *

Esposito gets a call, and while he and Ryan are sufficiently distracted, Castle gets up to use the restroom. He leans over Kate before he leaves the table, one hand resting on her shoulder, and whispers in her ear, "Might want to fasten another button."

She shoves him away, and her eyes drift closed at the immediate wash of heat from his body and fresh, heady scent she can smell on him. But she does as he suggests anyway, her fingers feeling stiff and uncoordinated as she quickly tries to fumble the little grey fastener closed.

"That was Peters. He and Velasquez just caught some activity over at Cristobal's crib. Looks like our boy just rolled in from a long night on the tiles. How about we show him a nice, New York welcome," suggests Esposito, pulling on his jacket.

"What about backup?" asks Ryan, with Esposito and Kate already out of the booth, fastening their coats.

"No time," says Kate. "We can call it in on the way," she promises, handing Castle his coat when he arrives at her back with a blank look on his face.

"Target's back in play," she tells him discreetly, when she notices the young waitress showing just a little too much interest in their group.

Kate pulls a few notes from her wallet and drops them on the table, thanking the girl for her service.

"Let's roll," mutters Esposito, leading the charge out of the café and onto the street, the Javi-swagger back in full force, shades pulled down over his eyes as he heads for the car.

* * *

"Oh, brother," he sings to his partner, once they're safely inside the car and Ryan starts the engine. "They are _so_ doin' it, my man," he grins, slamming his hand on the dashboard in triumph. "_Whoee!_"

"You think?" asks Ryan, not exactly sure what he thinks, but stalling for time and bowing to his partner's superior radar for this kind of thing.

"Dude, how could you miss the giant hickey on Beckett's neck? The guy hasn't even shaved this morning. And the tension between them…? _Hot damn!_ They could barely look at one another."

"Maybe they had a fight?" suggests Ryan reasonably, before adding, "But now you mention it, Beckett did kinda smell of Castle's soap."

"_See!_ Open your eyes, Choirboy, and face reality. 'Cause mom and dad are doin' it, whether you like it or not."

* * *

_A/N: So this was delightfully awkward, I hope. Thanks for the funny comments and reviews to the last chapter. You're keeping me smiling from one day to the next. Liv_


	8. Chapter 8 Risking Our Hearts

Disclaimer: Characters are still the property of ABC and AWM and I am thankful for them everyday.

* * *

_**What If…?**_

_Chapter 8: Risking Our Hearts_

"So, that went okay," says Castle brightly, sinking into the passenger seat, fastening his seatbelt and then quickly checking his phone, before turning it off.

"Are you _serious?_" laughs Kate, putting the car in drive, and glancing over at him as if he's a crazy person.

"What? We got through it. And they didn't suspect a thing," he says smoothly, clearly pleased with himself.

"Matching shirts? Castle, what were you _thinking?_ Putting _that_ on this morning," she asks, plucking at his cotton-clad chest while she drives one-handed.

"Glad to see you were paying so much attention to how I looked before we left home. I'm flattered," he says in a tone of amused sarcasm.

"You're _vain_, is what you are. We were running late. So late that now I'm en route to bust a notorious drug supplier wearing your _daughter's underwear_, while my own are bunched up inside my purse. So, forgive me if I didn't have time to check whether we were coordinated or not. _You_ should have done that, since you have a closet full of better options you could have worn today."

"Yeah, well, my mind might have been on _other_ things," he grins, sliding his hand over Kate's thigh and down between her legs, until she squeezes her knees so tightly together that he's forced to withdraw his hand or risk permanent injury.

"Yeah and right now, _mine_ is on other things too. We have to focus. This guy is a nasty piece of work. Do _not_ let your guard down for a second. Do you hear me?" she asks with some stridency, giving him a sharp look to make sure that he's paying attention this time.

"I hear ya'," he sings, looking out of the window at a couple of little kids making their way to school, cartoon backpacks weighing them down as they skip and run along the street, the hoods of their matching purple down jackets bouncing against stubby little ponytails.

* * *

When they get out of the car, Kate immediately heads round to the trunk to get suited up in her vest, holster and gun. She hands Castle his Kevlar and he takes his coat off, strapping the navy blue Writer's vest across his chest, deftly ripping and re-fastening the Velcro straps.

Kate stares at his bare forearms for a second, the naked triangle of exposed skin beneath his collarbone instantly making her hum with want. And this is so new, so sharp and piquant; knowing she can have him now, acknowledging to herself how much she wants him, sharing a little of that long kept secret with him, knowing what he feels like, how he can make _her_ feel, and she needs more of him, and soon.

When he almost catches her staring, she tugs a finger under one of the side straps right by his ribs to deflect his attention. "Are you losing weight? This thing's too loose. Come here," she adds, ripping it open and then reattaching it an inch or so tighter.

"What about breathing? That a non-essential in the field?" asks Castle, hamming it up as usual; wheezing theatrically just to make her laugh.

"Shut up," laughs Kate, while she helps him on with his coat. "No point wearing the thing if it comes loose."

* * *

Once they're ready, and with the trunk still open, screening them from the boys who are making preparations of their own, Castle wraps his fingers around Kate's wrist, drawing her closer.

"What is it?" she asks, staring down at his hand, his thumb circling the tendons and veins on the soft underside of her arm. "You okay? Wanna sit this one out? Because…"

"No. No, it's not that. I just…_after_...tonight…can we…will you come back to my place?" he asks, watching her face intently.

Kate gives him a sympathetic smile. She knows how desperate he is to cling to this, to them, how much he wants to cement what they're becoming. Quickly. And it's not that she's averse to that, far from it, she was the one who pushed them over the line last night after all. She's just…a little more practical and a lot less impetuous these days.

"I have to go home and change. And who knows how long this will take…processing Cristobal and whatever else we find in there…? Not to mention we haven't slept for over twenty-four hours."

She watches her partner's face fall, though he valiantly tries to hide it for her sake, they are at work after all.

"Yeah, sorry. Don't know what I was thinking," he says quickly, giving her a brave little smile.

"We will talk. I promise," Kate tells him, squeezing his hand quickly, before closing the trunk and moving away to join her co-workers.

* * *

The former gaming club is in a rundown, low-rise, brick building in an alley between Pearl Street and Saint James' Place. The alley overlooks a small, tree-lined park; screening the building they're about to enter from the apartment block next door. A black metal fence runs along the boundary line, a couple of over-flowing Dumpsters standing sentry outside, their backs turned to the narrow tract of greenery.

"Okay. Everybody ready?" asks Kate, looking at her team.

"Do we know anything about the layout of this place?" asks Castle, glancing across the street at the squat sprawl of off-grey brickwork, the walls scarred in places by gang tags and what passes locally for 'street art'.

"Nope. Surveillance said there's only one entrance. Other than that, we're kind of in the dark," says Esposito. "But, how big can it be? It only goes back for less than twenty yards down that alley. Frontage is less than thirty-feet across."

"What about backup?" asks Ryan again, looking to Kate this time.

"On its way. But we've wasted enough time already. Lost the element of surprise we were hoping for this morning. We can only cross our fingers that this guy's sleeping off a hard night," she says, throwing Castle a pointed look, "and we manage to catch him after he dozes off. So, I say we go in now, while the neighborhood busies are still asleep."

"I'm in," says Esposito, without hesitation.

"What about Peters and Velasquez?" asks Ryan, looking for the other two cops.

"Sent them home," confirms Kate. "They've been out here all night. No use to us."

"Okay, Beckett. Your call," shrugs Ryan. "So, let's go in," he adds, a little reluctantly.

* * *

They move quickly across the street and into the alley, pausing by the doorway to the building once they are under the protective cover of the trees.

Ryan gives the perimeter a quick check over to make sure the information they have about there being only one way in and one way out is accurate. He nods to Kate when he comes back around the corner, and they team up in front of the grubby, beat-up, metal door; the building like a little brick fortress overlooked by a sea of personal misery.

"Okay. Espo and I will go in first," instructs Kate. "Ryan, you and Castle bring up the rear," she tells the other two, making meaningful eye contact with her partner just before they fall into formation.

She can smell Ryan's reluctance to go in on this one without more Tac support, and it's making her a little irritated, since any note of dissent feels undermining when you're this tired. They have the warrant, they know their target is inside, the building layout looks reasonably straightforward and secure…so, what's the problem?

She's feeling the lack of sleep now, coating her body and weighing it down like a heavy invisible thing, and it's driving her need to do this quickly, to get it over with. Her body aches and vibrates still in ways she hasn't experienced for a long time, if ever. And it's distracting, loud. She just hopes the coalescence of all of these elements isn't blunting her judgment.

"You ready?" she asks Castle, almost as an afterthought, since he's working on the same lack of sleep as her.

He looks shiny, bright and eager, adrenalin or recent developments in their private life fueling his enthusiasm.

"Ready," he confirms, nodding, already bouncing on his toes like a prizefighter.

"Stay back. Like I said, we don't know how well armed these guys are going to be if they're protecting a stash in there. And remember, we're not here for the drugs. Narcotics will scoop that up afterwards. We're here for Cristobal Santiago and him alone."

* * *

Esposito moves in first, checking the door on the off chance that it's unlocked.

He turns back round to grin at Kate. _Bingo!_

"Well, looky here," he says, swinging the door open easily. "Some trusting neighbors in this part of town."

Kate puts a finger to her lips, and they listen to hear if they can detect any movement inside.

Esposito wordlessly shakes his head, so Kate nods for him to advance and then they move in soundlessly. Ryan follows Kate and Castle enters last, feeling excited; a familiar surge of primeval fight or flight hormones into his bloodstream, still wishing that he was armed for this too.

It's dark inside, one bare bulb illuminating the dingy threshold. The small hallway splits off in two directions. To the right is a large, open room with bare wooden boards and walls lined with old newsprint and a couple of 'titty' posters showcasing eye-poppingly large-breasted women in lewd poses. A lone, pockmarked dartboard hangs above two stainless steel beer kegs. The place looks like a low-rent frat house and it smells of stale cigarette smoke and dried sweat. Green baize card tables and cheap wooden chairs are spread out around the room in clusters and a large pool table straddles one end.

To the left of the entranceway is a narrow length of corridor with doors off on either side.

"We'll take this side," Kate signals to Ryan. "You guys take the corridor."

* * *

Castle loses sight of Kate as soon as he peels off to follow Ryan. The Irish detective has his gun drawn, and they clear the corridor stealthily, one room at a time.

On the right is a small bathroom with a dripping toilet that reeks of urine and Drano. Up ahead on the left is a windowless kitchen containing a rusted hotplate, a microwave you wouldn't actually want to put anything you intended to eat into, and a refrigerator with a hasp and lock on the front. A stainless steel dog bowl is sitting on the floor right next to the locked-up refrigerator, dry food pellets still lining the bottom.

"Nothing in here," says Ryan, sighing and motioning for Castle to back-up.

They head back out into the corridor, and Castle's ears prick up when he hears a noise close to what looks like the end wall of the building.

"Psst," he hisses. "Hey, Kev. Down here," he whispers, waving Ryan over.

There are stairs leading down to a basement level they knew nothing about, easy to miss in the windowless, gloomy shadowlands of the hall.

Castle lets Ryan go down ahead of him, and when they hit the lower hall, they see a mirror of the space they just left up above. Same footprint, only down here it's split into a larger number of smaller rooms.

Ryan hugs the left hand wall, his grip so tight on his Glock that his knuckles have gone white. But once he clears the first room, his breathing eases and he relaxes a little.

He passes around a tight corner, ducking beneath a low-hanging lamp, trying to watch his footing on the squeaky old boards, and then suddenly all hell breaks loose.

* * *

A door flies open up ahead and two men appear brandishing weapons and yelling. A large, ferocious looking dog begins snarling and barking at the outburst of noise and smell of fear in the air. The muzzle flash, when one of the men fires off a shot, blinds Castle temporarily. But the bullet ricochets harmlessly off the plasterwork, sending a shower of dust and paint flecks down from the ceiling.

Ryan ducks back into the doorway of the room they just searched, trying to keep himself between danger and the unarmed writer. But as Castle attempts to retreat, a third man appears behind them from out of a room they have yet to check, and before Ryan can react, he strikes Castle hard on the side of the head with the carbon steel barrel of a Colt .45 semi-automatic. The writer blacks out and crumples in a heap onto the dirty wooden floor.

The yelling and gunfire immediately draws the attention of Kate and Esposito, who are still upstairs, unaware that the building has another level hidden beneath their feet.

Trying desperately not to panic when she hears the shot ring out, she grabs Esposito's radio and rattles off a volley of instructions to Central Dispatch to put a rush on their backup. Then she tugs him by the back of his vest and wheels him around, dragging him towards the stairwell, until they're both tiptoeing down the creaky wooden stairs, wondering what they're about to face down below.

* * *

Ryan manages to hold the men off, once they know he is police and not a rival drug gang out to rob them, with his weapon alone and a promise that none of them are walking out of this dump alive if they try to kill this cop or his erstwhile partner.

Castle is lying immobile on the floor, and when Ryan glances down at him, he finds it hard to tell if he's faking or really out cold. There's a small rivulet of blood running down across the back of his hand from a nasty swelling on his right temple and his left arm is twisted awkwardly beneath him.

The dog barks continually, straining on a length of chain that's fixed to the wall, clear strands of stringy drool dripping from an impressive array of sharp looking teeth and mottled gums. Ryan can feel every snarling growl deep in the center of his chest, and it only adds to the unbearable tension and confusion in the basement.

The standoff ends when Esposito appears around the corner to cut off the exit, with a bellow of "_Nobody move, and nobody dies._"

Sirens wail in the alley up above, followed by the pounding of feet on old floorboards, while Esposito calls out, "Down here. NYPD. _Hold your fire._"

* * *

When Kate comes around the corner and sees Castle lying on the floor, the only one of them injured, she drops to her knees beside him.

"_Somebody call EMS_," she yells, terrified what she's about to find.

Her face pales, draining completely of color as she gingerly touches the trickle of bright, fresh blood running down the side of Castle's face and sees the contused swelling blooming on the soft skin her lips worshiped not a couple of hours ago.

"Beckett, gloves," warns Ryan, out of pure habit, when her partner's blood coats her fingertips a thin glossy red.

"What?" she asks listlessly, vaguely glancing up at her co-worker. "No," she adds, shaking her head and leaning closer to Castle, fighting off a wave of fear-induced nausea.

They're sharing a bed. What use does she have for prophylactic gloves?

"Castle?" she whispers shakily, running her hand down the writer's back, before tenderly cupping the base of his skull, carding her fingers softly through his hair.

And if Ryan wasn't aware of how close these two have become before this morning, he sure as hell is now, watching Kate touch the writer with more loving tenderness than he's ever witnessed her show anyone before.

"Castle?" she repeats, when he still doesn't stir, touching his cheek. "Rick, wake up for me, please."

* * *

She turns away from her partner to look up at Ryan again, growing panic in her eyes.

"Was he…? Ryan, could he have been _shot?_" asks Kate breathlessly, beginning to experience full-on terror, her mouth dry and heart racing, a second surge of dizzying nausea washing over her at how this cannot be happening to them now. No. No. Not now.

"I think he just got pistol-whipped. Guy hit him pretty hard. Knocked him out cold."

"Then where the _hell _is EMS?" barks Kate, her exhaustion, anger and fear getting the better of her.

"They're on their way," reassures Ryan, kneeling down beside her.

"Because if he…" she whimpers helplessly, tailing off as a tear runs down her face and she angrily wipes it away with the cuff of Alexis' shirt, fighting to clear her throat.

"I know," consoles Ryan, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Beckett, I know. Look, I'll go confirm their ETA," he says, giving Esposito a look, and then bolting up the rickety stairs two at a time.

Esposito is working with the uniformed backup to round up the three men and cuff them. The K-9 unit has been called in to deal with the dog, since no one wants to go near the snarling monster for fear of losing a hand, and two hard-looking guys from Narcotics have just arrived and are sniffing around the place with dead, seen-it-all looks on their faces.

* * *

Finally, a pair of EMT's come clomping down the stairs armed with a stretcher and bulky medical kits.

Kate is still kneeling on the floor talking quietly to Castle when the men arrive, and Ryan has to prize her away from the writer's side to let the men in to assess his condition.

He still hasn't moved, though he is breathing by himself.

"Beckett, let them do their job," he tells her, taking hold of her shoulders and guiding her to her feet.

Kate sighs helplessly, unwilling to move away from him, needing to keep touching him, to feel the warmth coming off his body.

"I know how you feel," Ryan tells her kindly. "But Gates is on her way. And you have a job to do. Let _them_ do theirs."

"You his partner?" asks the younger of the two men, giving Kate a slow once over she's seen one too many times before for it to bother her anymore.

"Yes," answers Kate almost soundlessly, backing her answer up with a quick, reaffirming nod.

"Can you tell me his name, love?" asks the older man, taking a pen light out of his bag.

"Uh…Richard."

She shakes her head, trying to clear the fog.

"Richard Castle. But…he…uh…he goes by Rick. Or just Castle," she stammers and her voice quivers.

Kate watches on tenterhooks as the men begin talking loudly to Castle, calling out his name, trying to bring him round. They expertly roll him onto the portable stretcher, remove his vest, check his airway and his pulse, and look for any missed injuries.

The younger man flicks Castle's cheek with his fingernail, and when this gets no result, he performs a sternal rub, running his knuckles over Castle's breastbone in an attempt to stimulate a pain response.

The writer jerkily raises his arm to bat the source of pain away and begins coughing and sucking in air in the process.

Kate is one hundred percent certain that she's never felt so thankful in her entire life, and she stands over them smiling and then lets out a shaky, tear-choked laugh of relief.

"Beckett, Gates wants a word," warns Esposito, glancing down at Castle, who's finally showing signs of awareness as the EMT shines a light in his eyes.

"I'll be right there," says Kate distractedly, crouching down again to take Castle's hand without even looking at Esposito.

"Hey," she says gently, smiling warmly at Castle, soaking in the heat of his hand. "You gave us quite a scare."

He blinks at her, wincing when he tries to smile back and a burst of pain shoots through his eye socket.

"We'll take him to the rig. Get him checked over, Ma'am," says the older EMT. "I'll come find you when we're done," he promises, sensing something more than a working relationship between these two.

Kate nods and then reluctantly goes back upstairs to find Captain Gates.

* * *

"What kind of a fiasco are you running here, Detective?" is the Captain's opening question, as she leans, scowling and cross-armed, against the doorframe to the gaming room.

Kate is exhausted, emotionally wrung-out, and not in any mood to face Gates' accusations, since she already realizes how badly she's handled herself this morning.

"Sir, I…"

"Save it for your report, Detective Beckett," she says, holding up a hand to silence Kate. "And I want to know _exactly_ why you thought it was a good idea to come charging in here without any backup, allowing these thugs to surprise you, after I had two of my people…_two_…sitting on this address all night," the Captain tells her, her voice kept dangerously low.

"And I also want you to explain to me how the only civilian on your team ended up getting injured in this debacle."

Before Kate can open her mouth again, Captain Gates adds, "And do you have _any idea_ how much paperwork I'm facing because of this? _Do you?_"

Kate feels guilty and responsible enough for Castle getting hurt. She seriously does not need Victoria Gates rubbing it in.

"How is Mr. Castle anyway?" her boss asks, almost as an afterthought, as they watch the two EMT's carrying him out to the ambulance on a stretcher.

"Uh…"

Kate stares after the trio, momentarily losing the power of speech as her lover's prone body passes by.

"I…I'm not exactly sure yet. He was out for around ten minutes. They're taking him to the ambulance now for a full check-up."

"Go and supervise Cristobal's arrest. Double-check everything. Make sure his rights are spotlessly read, every I is dotted and T crossed, and then go look after your partner, Detective. I'll expect a full report on my desk tomorrow."

* * *

"She giving you a hard time?" asks Esposito, glancing over his shoulder at Gates.

"Nothing I didn't deserve. Make sure you get him processed properly. Stay strictly within the bounds of the warrant. I can't afford to screw this one up any more than I already have. He asks for a soda, he gets a soda. He asks for a lawyer, you get him one. Understood?"

"Sure thing, Beckett," reassures Esposito. "I got this. How's Castle doin'?"

Before she can answer, one of the EMT's reappears with news.

"Detective Beckett. We're just clearing Mr. Castle now. He's asking for you," says the older of the two EMTs, popping his head into the hallway.

* * *

Kate immediately follows him outside to the back of the ambulance where the metal doors are thrown wide. A small crowd of gawkers has gathered at the end of the alley out on Pearl Street; pointing and gossiping, cell phones raised in front of faces to pointlessly capture the moment.

"He's talking already?" she asks, through a flood of relief and surprise.

"Mmm-hmm. Took quite a blow to the head. But pupils check out fine, vision is good, BP is normal, and he remembers everything up until he blacked out."

"Thank god," murmurs Kate, fighting a rush of tears.

"He'll have one heck of a headache and he's gonna need someone to keep an eye on him over the next twenty-four hours. But there's no need to take him to the hospital. Does he have a wife or a girlfriend at home who can…?"

"He…uh…_yes._ Yes, he can come home with me," Kate immediately offers, avoiding the older man's gaze, while the young EMT watches her, the disappointment clear to see on his face.

"Oh. Okay. Good," nods the man, pleased to have her confirm his own suspicions. "Then you need to be on the lookout for any altered vision, nausea, vomiting, mental confusion, blackouts, convulsions or slurred speech. You see any of those signs, take him straight to the ER."

"Thank you. I'll do that," promises Kate, nodding her appreciation to the older man.

"Oh, and keep any strenuous activity to a minimum for a day or so," he adds, giving her a wink that has her swallowing thickly.

* * *

When she turns to enter the back of the rig, Castle is sitting up on the gurney watching her, and it's pretty clear from the look on his face that he caught every word of this last exchange.

She ignores his goofy grin for a second, climbing up inside the ambulance to sit opposite him, trapping her fidgety hands between her knees, the soles of her boots rasping against the patterned aluminum floor.

"How's your head?" she asks softly, biting her lip, shy eyes finding his in this brave new world they're facing together.

"Like someone's playing Guitar Hero in there and they just fired up the World Tour drum set," he jokes, trying to cover the fearful, hopeful light shining out of his eyes that's currently searching for its long-lost twin in hers.

"I am _so_ sorry," she half-laughs, half-chokes, reaching for his hand.

"Kate, no," he says, shaking his head gingerly. "Not your fault."

"But it was. I made several bad judgment calls today…and _you,_ of all people, paid the price. I…this should never have happened."

"What did Gates say?" he asks nervously, hoping he hasn't been kicked off her team for this.

"Chewed me out. Wants a full report tomorrow. Told me to check on you first though," she says, arching her eyebrow at him and adding a faint smile.

"_So_…the guys say I might have a mild concussion," he tells her, dragging the conversation back round to the admission he might just have overheard her make. "And apparently, that means I need someone to stay with me for the next twenty-four hours, and since my mother and Alexis are kind of…"

"Castle, you already heard me say I'd do it," she smirks, shaking her head at him as she would for an adorable, precocious child, her cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment that she seems to have lost control of her reserve around him.

"I might have heard you say just a little more than that," he admits, love and gratitude radiating out of his eyes.

"You're pushing for a label again," she scolds halfheartedly.

"You're taking me home," he throws back at her, smiling cleverly. "I'd say that means we're going steady, Detective."

"How long since you graduated high school, old man? No one says 'going steady' anymore," she laughs, getting up off the bench.

"Girlfriend then?" he pushes, grabbing her hand to prevent her from turning her back on him and walking away before he nails this to the floor once and for all.

"Get your coat and let's go home," she says, blinking back a flood of relief that he's really okay and some things between them will never change.

* * *

_A/N: I've been trying to mirror 'Always' & 'After The Storm' at points in this AU – like Ryan's reluctance to go in without backup, Espo's gung-ho attitude in this chapter, Gates giving Kate a dressing-down, Castle bringing her coffee the morning after, as if the two different routes are running in parallel. Just thought I'd point that out, in case it isn't obvious. _

_Anyone up for one more? Liv_


	9. Chapter 9 Fear Is Never Reason Enough

Disclaimer: What I wouldn't give...

* * *

_**What If…?**_

_Chapter 9: Fear Is Never Reason Enough_

They stop by the loft to pack a bag for Castle, just some clothes and toiletries, his laptop and a bottle of painkillers. Kate insists they need a change of scene when he tries to persuade her to stay there. But Alexis is due home sometime soon, and so he acquiesces, sensing that she maybe needs her own things around her to help deal with the shock and upset of the morning's events, not to mention the seismic shift in their relationship; caring for her needs the best way to let her care for him.

At a grocery store a few blocks from her apartment, they pick up a few basic essentials to restock her empty refrigerator, both of them too tired to speak or do much more than brush shoulders while they wait in line to pay; exchange tentative, curious glances until the lights turn green at her corner; tangle fingers when they enter her building; hold hands as they ride the elevator to her floor.

_Everything building, building, building between them._

* * *

"I'll turn the heat on," says Kate tiredly, dropping her keys into a decorative bowl by her front door that Castle realizes he's never noticed before.

But then there are a lot of things in her apartment - her home - that he hasn't seen or noticed before, since this is the first time he has come here without a case to worry or distract them, and not as her partner or co-worker, not even as her friend, but as her lover, her boyfriend, and that realization makes his blood sing like never before.

The energy zinging through his body at the boundless possibilities that now lie before them for a life together sends his blood pressure rising and causes his head to hurt even more. He knows he's getting ahead of himself as usual, since they have talked through none of this. But he doesn't care, because last night changed everything for them, and it's pretty much all down to Kate, which is by far the best way this could have happened.

She takes his bag into the bedroom, but he hesitates to follow, since he's never made it that far before and she hasn't expressly invited him in this time either.

He knows she feels guilty about what happened today, that it's eating at her, from the silence she's been maintaining since they got into her car. And though he wants to reassure her, he knows from past experience that space and silence are her best routes out of this. She will eventually head back towards the light.

So he stands in her living room just looking around, fresh eyes dancing over everything; searching for new clues to the woman he loves, needing to know as much of this private side to her as he can get his hands on now that he is in her personal space, now that they are fully in each other's lives.

* * *

"Castle?" she calls from inside her bedroom, her voice slightly muffled by distance and the wall that divides them. "You okay out there?"

He hurries to the door, nursing his head in his hand since every quick or jerky movement makes his poor throbbing brain throb even harder.

"Right here," he says quietly, poking his head around the doorframe.

"Hey," she smiles shyly, almost as if she missed him in the minute and a half they've been apart.

"So…don't just stand there. Come on in. Make yourself at home," she tells him kindly, opening a drawer and clearing out a few piles of soft, feminine-looking garments to make space for his things.

He briefly wonders how long she thinks he's going to be staying, and then he realizes that he doesn't care if he gets to be with her and she's making room for him in her life. He'll take whatever he can get, whatever she can give.

She leaves his bag open on the floor at the foot of the bed for him to unpack.

He watches her move quickly and efficiently around her own space, opening another drawer to take out fresh underwear, fetching a sweatshirt and yoga pants from her closet. She goes into the bathroom and turns on the shower, and he hears the thundering roar as water strikes porcelain and then evens out.

* * *

When she comes back out, stripping Alexis' shirt over her head, he is sitting on the bottom of her bed, unable to move, other than to track her with weary eyes.

She pauses on the threshold with the shirt in her hands, the faint pink blush of the red wine stain still visible on the cup of her white bra; a small reminder, a milestone on their route to here.

"Do you feel okay?" she asks, coming straight for him, sitting down by his side without any thought to modesty or anything else. "No nausea or dizziness?" she asks, palming the back of his neck, a glimmer of panic in the quickening of her voice, her moments.

"Honestly?" he asks, as if seeking her permission.

"I think that might be best from now on, don't you?" she says, gently bumping his shoulder, trying hard to smile.

And how can something he's waited years to hear hurt so much, when he knows that honesty is something she has withheld from him, is _still_ withholding?

"I…I'm having a hard time with this," he tells her, candor spilling out onto the floor in front of them like a real, solid, messy entity.

"I see," replies Kate carefully, actually having no idea where he's going with this, other than that she asked for it, so she'll have to hear it. No running now.

"Mmm. Being here…with you…it's a _lot_ _more_ than I hoped for when you agreed to watch a couple of John Woo movies with me. So…" he stops to look at her, then sighs, letting his eyes drift closed for a second, not making himself clear through the muddy waters of his aching head.

"_Good_ more, I hope?" asks Kate, dropping a hand to his knee. "Since I kind of got you into this mess," she adds, tenderly touching the side of his head, fingers gently skirting the outer limits of the purpling bruise.

He doesn't pull away, in fact he finds himself leaning into her cool touch.

"_Great _more. _Amazing_ more. Just…"

"Then, sounds okay to me," she replies quietly, patting his leg. "I'm going to take a shower," she says, standing stiffly, dirt from the basement floor still staining the knees of her pants where she knelt beside him trying to bring him round, holding his hand for everyone to see, a fact he still can't quite get over.

But he can make out the tightness in her features; the twin warriors - worry and guilt - crossing swords on the normally smooth plane of her brow as she tries to hold herself together, to keep everything she's not ready to face inside.

She doesn't invite him to join her in the shower this time, and he knows her well enough not to push, even if this new situation opens them up to asking for more from one another. Even if she told him to expect more of her. He won't. Not this time.

* * *

He lies back on her bed, sinking into the soft down of her comforter, imagining he can smell her all around him, suddenly overrun by exhaustion, needing to close his eyes just for a moment to alleviate the relentless throbbing in his head.

He instantly drifts off into a nightmare where they're cornered by a pack of snarling dogs, only this time there is no chain to hold them at bay, and then they're running across a field with the bloodthirsty hounds in hot pursuit. When Kate stumbles and falls in the dirt he has to stop to help her up, the dogs coming ever closer, rabid hunger in their red-hot eyes.

The sound of a choked sob brings him out of his doze. He thinks he's still dreaming at first, but the Kate in his dream was running with him, holding his hand and laughing as they made their escape over the endless span of an ornate, wooden rope bridge.

Kate, in reality, sounds as if she's having a breakdown in her shower, and, for the first time today, he is at a loss; his excitement temporarily doused in the face of this new challenge.

He knows how fiercely she guards her privacy, how she hates to have any kind of weakness witnessed, but he suspects this might be at least partly about him, and if they're doing this together, he has to make her see that letting him in is letting him care for her. Not an unwanted intrusion or a bid to know for the sake of knowing or a way to satisfy his writer's curiosity. And certainly _not_ a sign of weakness.

He's here to stay, he wants to help, he needs this chance to love her to repair all the hurt that's gone before, all the wasted time spent apart.

* * *

He knocks lightly on the bathroom door. She left it half-ajar and that's almost permission enough. Steam curls out of the shower-warmed room, the sound of running water doing little to muffle her tears.

"Kate? Can I come in?" he asks hesitantly, stepping inside anyway and closing the door behind him.

She stops crying instantly, and he hates that she feels she has to control herself in front of him, hide her feelings away, be strong.

Always the strong one.

He picks up a towel from the shelf and bumps the shower curtain aside, then he leans past the spot where she's standing, elbows hugging her body, shaking and wet, her hands covering her face as she heaves, and he shuts off the faucet, soaking his forearm, his sleeve and part of his shirt in the process.

He strips the wet shirt over his head and drops it to the floor. Then he holds the towel out for her, nudging her hip with his knuckles to get her attention. When she doesn't react, he wraps it around her himself, and then easily lifts her out of the tub, sinking to the floor with her in his arms, until she is sitting in his lap like a child; an exhausted, half-drowned, bundle of warm Kate and fluffy, scented terry-cloth.

"Hey, hey, hey," he sings quietly to distract her. "Big day. Hmm? No sleep," he whispers, wrapping her up tighter in the towel. "It's okay to feel overwhelmed, Kate."

She leans into him, her body soft and pliant, burying her damp face in his neck, arms still wound tightly around her own torso; protecting, containing, trying to keep everything inside.

He can barely get his head around the fact that just twenty-four hours ago this would have been an impossibility: being allowed to hold her like this, to comfort her, having her reveal how deeply she cares about him; how badly all of this matters. A line they wouldn't have dared to cross.

"I'm screwing this up already," she hiccups, her lips brushing against his throat.

"Now how'd you figure that?" he asks patiently, bending his head down to look at her, tipping her face up until he can see her eyes.

"Look at us. I could have got you killed this morning. And _I'm_ supposed to be looking after you right now. But here you are again…" she trails off, her chest hitching with another sob, and she reaches up to touch his chin.

"Exactly. Here I am," he soothes, kissing her forehead, rocking her until the motion gets to be too much for his poor head. "And here is where I'll always be, Kate. If you'll let me? Here is where I've wanted to be for a very long time."

* * *

She curls further into him after that, her damp body soaking through the towel and into the fabric of his pants, legs a long naked sprawl over his.

"This is how it's going to be, isn't it?" she asks plaintively.

"I don't understand. How what's going to be?"

"Scared of loving. But even more scared of losing."

"There's no need to be scared of either. The risks will always be there, no doubt. But…I promise you, Kate, if we open ourselves up to this, it'll be worth it. Everyone faces risks everyday. We're no different. But we are better together than apart, I can tell you that."

She watches his face as he reassures her, as if she needs to believe every single word he says to survive. Her eyes dart from his eyes to his mouth and then circle all of him again, as if she's memorizing his face or really looking properly at him for the first time.

"We have to talk. I need to talk. There's so much…" she breaks off breathlessly to kiss him hard.

He can feel her heart hammering against his bare skin. Her arms escape the confines of the towel and wrap around his neck so that she's clinging to him, while her mouth works feverishly over his; nipping, sucking, feeding on him. The suddenness of her assault startles him, the depth of her need stokes his, and he feels his body responding to her in ways he knows he shouldn't right now; in ways that are inappropriate.

She breaks away from his mouth to kiss his naked chest, the towel dropping to crumple around her waist in the process. And it's painful to witness and be a part of; this desperate unleashing of yearning and grief for every time they came close to losing one another and couldn't make it better by being this open, this exposed, this honest about how much they mean to one another.

* * *

He gentles her, slows her down eventually, with murmured words and light touches.

"Shhh, it's okay. I'm right here. Slow down. Slow down, Kate. Take it easy. Breathe."

She finally stops, her breathing ragged, to look into his eyes, need and fear and raw emotion swirling in the gold flecks of her irises, the color as beautiful, unique and complex as she is.

"Mmm," she hums on repeat, like a child self-soothing after a crying jag.

"Hey, we have all day and all night. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going anywhere," he repeats, running his fingers through her damp hair, desperately holding himself back from pressing his nose into her scalp to breath in the innate essence of her, in a bid to avoid confusing things further.

"I know," she blinks, trying to find some solid ground, some self-control. "I know. I'm sorry."

When he tries to move, she whispers, "Don't leave me, please? I need you, Castle."

And his heart feels so broken, and yet mended in one fell swoop, with the release of these words into this warm room.

"You only had to ask," he whispers back, kissing her temple, as she raises her eyes to his, grateful, relieved. "You only ever had to ask. Kate."

* * *

He manages to get them both off the bathroom floor and into the bedroom. Kate dresses herself, but she's quieter now, even than before.

Castle throws on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt, keeping a watchful eye on her as he does so, and then he stores the rest of his clothes into the drawer space she's made for him. His shoulder hurts from when he fell awkwardly in the basement, and lifting her out of the tub and up off the floor hasn't helped any, though he'd never tell her that.

The sexiest woman he's ever been with, he thinks ruefully, watching dry-mouthed as she shimmies expertly into the tightest pair of black yoga pants he's ever seen, and he manages to get himself knocked out cold less than two hours later. What a chump.

While he's unpacking his toiletries in her bathroom – his toothbrush kissing hers, his razor on her glass shelf, shaving gel next to an elegant bottle of her perfume - he realizes how much he's missed this: being part of a couple; an 'us'. And it feels good with her, healthy, grown-up. Not claustrophobic like it did with Gina eventually, or exciting but manic like it did with Meredith.

He also realizes how lonely he's been, how starved of real female company that wasn't his eccentric mother or his all too-knowing daughter. He wonders if she's been lonely too, existing in this relationship limbo they've been enduring. He resolves to ask her sometime, once things settle down.

* * *

"We should eat something," she says, hanging on the doorframe, watching him examine her stuff, amused when he flinches and stiffens as if she caught him doing something wrong.

_He touches things._

"Eat? Sure. Want a hand?" he offers, putting her perfume bottle carefully back on the shelf, challenging her knowing grin with a steady gaze that is full of denial; like a puppy dog who ate a sock.

"You need to rest," she says, wanting him close to her so very badly, but struggling to push the words out, not knowing how to ask without sounding clingy and desperate.

They're transitioning from subtext to honesty, and she's like a visitor to a foreign country who has her passport, but lost her translator crossing the border.

"Keep you company then?" he asks lightly, coming to her rescue like the true hero he is, without her even having to ask.

"So long as you stay out of my way," she fires back, smiling indulgently, playing this old role she knows so well: that of scolding partner, work-wife, maintaining control in all situations.

And she's so glad he lets her get away with this. Because she already broken down once in front of him today, and she's pretty sure it isn't going to be the last time, if this day takes the path she expects.

* * *

_A/N: You kindly said you were up for more, and I seem to have gone and done my usual: opened a can of worms that wouldn't resolve in one chapter. So on we go…_

_Happy Castle Monday to those of you lucky enough to get to enjoy the show today, and to the rest of us, remember, 'Patience is a virtue. Possess it if you can. Seldom found in woman, never found in man!' Liv_


	10. Chapter 10 Learning To Let Go

Disclaimer: Characters remain the property of AWM and ABC.

* * *

_**What If…?**_

_Chapter 10: Learning to Let Go_

Kate makes them a light brunch of eggs and smoked salmon, sautés some spinach in a pan with red peppers and onion, turning it into a frittata.

Castle stares at her from his nearby perch on one of her kitchen stools while she pretends not to notice, watching her deftly crack eggs into a bowl and whisk them up, the twist of her wrist when she adds salt and pepper. He could go on all day, for a lifetime even, watching this woman's hands, the way she moves, her grace and fluidity performing the most mundane tasks and never get tired of admiring her. Hell, he's sat in the world's most uncomfortable chair for over four years, flattening his ass, just to be close enough to witness her breathe in and out.

* * *

"Everything okay?" he asks at length, watching her face in an attempt to read her mood, since she seems calmer now. But he wants to be certain. "You're quiet."

And it's maybe not the best icebreaker, given recent events. But hey, he's concussed, so he feels he due a little slack today.

"I could say the same about you," she teases back, slowly lifting her eyes from the pan to smile at him, her confidence coming back.

"In fact, don't think I've ever seen you stay this quiet for this long, Castle," she teases. "Should have guessed that's all it would take to shut you up."

She's full on flirting with him now, if he's not mistaken. His mind isn't _that_ muddled.

"Brain injury?" he asks dryly, kicking himself when her faces clouds over with guilt again and his joke falls flat.

"No, I…I meant _me_, actually," she sighs, lifting her lips in a half-formed smile, blushing attractively. "Us."

"Hey, look, I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. Just ignore me, Kate," he says, coming round to give her shoulders a squeeze and kiss her still-damp hair.

She gives him an apologetic smile and shrugs.

"First I jump you, and then…then I let someone else do the same. You must be wondering what the hell you've let yourself in for," she says, avoiding looking at him, biting her lip while she concentrates on plating up their food.

"No. Not _exactly_ what I was thinking," he says, sitting back down opposite her.

She gives him a questioning look, accompanied by a lift of her eyebrows that says '_spill_'.

"I…I'm actually thanking my lucky stars that one of us, namely _you_, was brave enough to make the first move last night," he confesses, giving her a sexy, lopsided grin.

Kate stops what she's doing to look up at him again.

"Is that so?" she asks slowly and deliberately; the sun coming out from behind a dark cloud.

"Yes, that is definitely so," he nods, grinning back, pleased to have finally put a smile on her face. "But you do lose points if you burn lunch," he adds, pointing to the slice of frittata still sitting in the pan.

"Shoot. Right," she laughs nervously, sliding it out onto the second waiting plate.

* * *

They sit at her counter to eat, angled slightly towards one another, Kate swinging her legs between his, letting her heels bump off the stool's wooden footrest again and again while she chews thoughtfully, her make-up free face making her look so relaxed and so young.

"Doesn't that hurt?" he eventually asks, looking down at her sock-clad feet with amusement.

"Nope," she grins, resuming the pendulum action, until he traps her legs between his and stops her.

They stare at one another for a long moment and the air around them is becalmed, the atmosphere suddenly so heated, electric, vibrating with portent; every heart-stopping cliché you could come up with.

Kate drops her fork onto the plate with a clatter, and then she hesitantly leans in to slide her hand behind his head, her fingers slipping through his hair as she draws him close for a soft kiss.

He lays a hand on her thigh, fingers ghosting her cheekbone, and he can feel her trembling when they begin to deepen the kiss; lips brushing gently then parting on a sigh, the tip of her tongue just barely stroking his until she slides inside to caress him fully, sparking an impressive light display behind his eyes, flooding his bloodstream with desire for her, making his heart race against his ribcage, sending a shiver down his spine that radiates out through his entire body.

Fluidity, after so much rigid, careful withholding.

And all he can think is _golden_. This one word stuck in his brain, with so many half-formed, potential meanings, so many images he can conjure up, all of them warm and precious and special.

* * *

When they part, they rest their foreheads together, both staring down at the tangle their fingers have suddenly become all of their own accord.

Everything feels overwhelming - their closeness, their need for one another, this letting go to come together – and terrifyingly slim; the margin by which they barely made it here.

Kate's phone ringing forces them apart with a single, combined sigh of regret.

"Beckett?" she says, shaking her head at him, reaching for his hand again, fingers stroking his palm until he captures them, squeezing tightly to make her stop tickling him.

"Great. Thanks for letting me know, Espo," she tells the detective, winking at Castle. "So he's slated for transport later today? Good. Make sure they keep him apart from Santos in holding. I don't want those two getting wind of the fact they're even in the same building. Understand?"

She listens for a bit while Esposito talks some more.

"I'm just finishing lunch. Then I'm gonna sit down and draft it. I'll email it to you when I'm done. Appreciate that, Javi."

Castle watches her eyes shoot up from caressing the back of his hand to find his face again in response to something Esposito obviously asked her.

"He…uh…he's doing fine. Head's still sore, but it seems to have shut him up for a little while," she jokes, her cheeks pink and eyes bright from Esposito's assumption that her partner is indeed still with her, and she laughs when Castle clutches at his chest, miming being wounded by her remark.

"That's sweet. Thanks. I'll tell him," she nods, as Castle leans in to kiss her cheek, before rising to begin clearing away their plates.

* * *

"What was all that about?" he asks, once she hangs up.

He has her 'Home Sweet Home' kitchen towel slung over one shoulder, and the sight of him in her apartment, looking so sexily mussed and domesticated, makes her breath catch in her throat. And somehow it is better than she ever imagined it would be, having him here, far easier too.

Comfortable.

"Ryan's making you a get well card," she laughs, shaking her head, trying to cover-up the flush of arousal she knows can't go anywhere while he's still recovering despite how good he looks.

"Original," says Castle, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, and Javi asked for a draft of my report so that we can…"

She looks guilty or embarrassed for a second, hesitating to say anymore.

"So you can what?" he asks, putting down the towel and drawing her into his arms, fingers walking around her waist until he has her wrapped up entirely.

She instantly molds her body into his - hips, stomach, chest all meeting – they fit so well together. He feels it too, and he holds her even tighter, resting his chin on the crown of her head while she burrows into him, soaking up his warmth and comforting solidity.

"So that we can get our story straight," she admits, with a sigh.

"Nothing wrong with that," he reassures her. "The guys have your back, just like you've had theirs plenty of times before."

"I know. I just don't want you thinking I'm making light of this, or…or trying to avoid taking responsibility for a string of bad judgment calls. You got seriously hurt today because I made stupid mistakes out there."

"Kate, you need to stop beating yourself up over this," he tells her, taking hold of her shoulders and leaning back a little so that he can see her face.

"We had a pretty big night last night. In fact, I'd go so far as to say _momentous_. Neither of us slept. We had nothing to eat. You did the best you could with a fluid situation on the ground. How could you have known that the guy was going to stay out all night?"

"I suppose," she admits reluctantly.

"And the layout of the club…not knowing that…? Because that's what really got us," he points out.

"Yes, but you already raised that issue _before_ we went in. And _I_ wasn't listening – to you _or_ to Ryan. He wanted to wait for backup. He said it several times. You heard him yourself."

"So…okay, so maybe you made a couple of mistakes," he concedes, dropping his arms back to her waist. "You're only human, Kate. It happens. And nobody died."

"This time," she says quietly, laying her head back on his chest and letting out another long sigh.

He rubs his hand up and down her back for a few seconds in an attempt to relax her. When he feels her muscles loosen and her fingers begin to tease his sides, tangling in his t-shirt, he lets her go.

"Right. We just raked over it. Go write your report while it's still fresh, and I'll clean up in here. _Go_," he tells her, kissing her cheek and smacking her on the butt as she reluctantly leaves him cleaning her kitchen to go into her office.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Kate comes round the corner to find him sitting on her couch with his feet up, his laptop balanced on his thighs, and she stops by the wall while he's still unaware of her just to watch him work.

She's never really had a chance to watch him write before, despite the thousands of hours he has spent watching her do her job. And it's like witnessing another facet to the Richard Castle that she knows so well: another card in the deck.

She's seen daddy Castle many times before, admires his skill, maturity and ceaseless devotion to his daughter. In fact, this was one of the first things that drew her to him in their early days together, that helped her see beyond the playboy persona he hid behind back then. She also knows how patient he is as a dedicated son to Martha; has watched him face down dangerous felons in his role as loyal protector and partner to her; has enjoyed watching him play poker with his writer buddies and bond with her work friends as Castle the man. And she's just beginning to learn how wonderful he can be as a lover - how skillful and generous, sensual and loving.

But now there is this revelation - the writer - the facet he most often uses to define himself; one that she has rarely seen.

The light from the laptop screen illuminates his face, throwing ghostly, bluish-white highlights across his features. She can hear his fingers tapping a merry little dance across the keyboard, even though she can't see them move from this angle. Fingers she has long marvelled at and has very recently become so well acquainted with.

"Staring, Beckett?" he asks, breaking her out of her little fantasy stroll down memory lane with a trademark smirk.

_Busted._

"Just…uh.._tea?_" she asks moronically, walking away without waiting for an answer to fill the kettle and put it on the stove, while dealing with her own embarrassment. "Did you want tea?" she throws over her shoulder, closing her eyes and shaking her head at her own ridiculous behavior.

He smiles to himself at her discomfort at getting caught watching him, since that's usually his thing, and then he goes back to writing.

* * *

A few minutes later, Kate brings a tray over and settles on the other end of the couch, enjoying the quiet and this time they seem to have been granted to learn to be just them.

Castle offers to move his legs, but she tells him to stay where he is, that it will do him good to rest. And he'll take a blow to the head any day of the week, if it means he gets this level of care from her and the chance to work while watching her curl up by his feet, quietly sipping a cup of Earl Grey, sending him curious glances every few seconds.

"Hit on some inspiration?" she finally asks, nursing the warm cup against her chest and watching him figure something out, his eyes downcast, mouth working slightly in time with his thoughts and fingers.

"I…uh…mmm-hmm," he hums absently, backspacing the cursor to edit the last sentence he just wrote.

He looks up from what he's doing to find Kate looking a little concerned.

_Inspiration._

"_Oh!_ Oh, no. No, Kate, this is not what you think," he shakes his head vigorously. "The basement today, that vicious dog, what it felt like to be whacked on the head with a .45. That's all I'm… I mean you _have_ to know that I would never…" he trails off, dragging a hand over his mouth, because this is one important point he has to make before they go any further.

"You and me: that is _sacred_. Not for print. Not for any books. Private, you understand?" he asks, watching her listening to him carefully.

"I know," she says, trying to keep her voice light, but sounding as if she actually, really isn't that sure.

He nods, deciding to believe that she gets this; how special their time together is to him.

"Good. Because anything Rook and Nikki get up to is…"

"Strictly from your imagination. I know. I heard you tell my dad once, remember?"

"Oh shit. Yes, that. Oh god, your dad," he says, looking around as if her father might magically materialize at any moment.

"Relax, Castle," she grins. "I'm pretty sure my dad's been rooting for us for a while."

"You do?" he sounds surprised.

"Mmm-hmm," she smiles, hiding her admission behind her mug.

"What about you?" he asks, nudging her knee with his toes.

"What about me?"

"Has your inner cheering squad being rooting for us too?"

She looks down at her lap and then pulls her knees up to sit crossed legged on the couch, drawing the sleeves of her sweatshirt down over her hands.

"I think my inner cheering squad disbanded for a time back there. They got fed up waiting for something to happen and they deserted me," she says solemnly, finally looking up at him abruptly. "And…I'm sorry. You didn't deserve the way I treated you, Castle. That whole mess with Josh and… I never meant to hurt you. You _do_ know that, right?"

"I know," he says lightly, placing his laptop on the table.

But he doesn't give her an easy way out, like he usually would. He wants to let her talk about this, because he is actually aching to hear what she has to say about that time.

* * *

"When you came to visit me in the hospital…_after_…" she tells him, and then she looks away, playing with the stretchy fabric that covers her knuckles, hiding her face with her hand to stifle a yawn, which Castle instantly mirrors, both of them pretty much exhausted by this point.

"Look. Do you want to take a nap?" she asks, able to look at him to ask this at least. "I mean, if you've got everything down that…everything from this morning?" she says, pointing to his laptop where it idles on her coffee table.

"A nap? Sure. A nap sounds good," he says, surprised, and actually a whole lot disappointed that she's dropping the subject she was just embarking on.

But Kate knows that she hasn't dropped it, however. Not by a mile. Just that she wants to postpone it until they can get a little more comfortable, closer. Because she has so much to make him understand, and she wants to get it right first time. He's the man of words. But he seems to want to hang on every one of hers when it comes to that period in their history, since he still understands so little of what went on with her back then. That mysterious blank space in their personal timeline, when she dropped out of his orbit and disappeared out of sight, when he imagined her walking off into the sunset with Dr. Josh Davison, surgical superhero, tending to her every need and saving her in ways Castle could only dream of.

She needs to disabuse him of these detailed little scenarios she's sure he's concocted to torture himself using the full arsenal of his writer's imagination; scenarios she is certain he has locked away as canon in his mind, despite, or perhaps because of, the paltry amount of evidence to the contrary that she has drip fed him thus far.

The secret between them is weighing round her neck like a stone, far heavier now that they have unburdened themselves of their physical reserve. And it feels like she's cheating, the longer she holds this back from him.

So she has to get this right. Nothing was ever more important than this to make certain that their foundation is strong.

* * *

_A/N: Good episode, despite the lack of Caskett. Though I hope we don't have to wait too long for some more. (my Oliver Twist impression is being polished for AWM as I speak). _

_Thank you for all of the entertaining, rousing, insightful reviews. I'll stop saying 'just one more' because I'm obviously useless at sticking to it. So, on to the next chapter… Liv_


	11. Chapter 11 Tell Me No Secrets

Disclaimer: If only...I would buy myself a cherry red golf cart and drive it around the Raleigh Studios lot.

* * *

_**What If…?**_

_Chapter 11: Tell Me No Secrets, I'll Tell You No Lies_

Kate gets up from the couch to clear their mugs onto the tray, ferrying the whole lot to the kitchen, and then leaving them in the sink, too exhausted and too preoccupied with the man in the next room to thinking about washing so much as a teaspoon right now.

He's at her back before she can blink, strong arms wrapping around her waist, his broad chest and hips pressing her into the edge of the counter, holding her captive. Though even she knows she is done running from him now.

"Kate," he whispers, nudging her hair aside and kissing her neck. "Kate, can we talk about this please?"

He sounds hurt all over again and…enough. _Just enough now._

She turns around in his arms to face him.

"Come lie down and we can talk," she promises, nudging him backwards with her hip when he glances at their dirty dishes.

* * *

Kate leads him to her bedroom by the hand in a repeat of her brave move the night before. When they get inside he hovers near the foot of the bed watching her turn down the comforter, and then leave to go into the bathroom. He waits on the bottom corner of her bed; fingers laced together, head bowed over his knees until he hears the toilet flush and the water running.

She comes out rubbing lotion onto her hands and arms, rolling her head on tired neck muscles to find him just sitting there.

"Something wrong? You not getting in?" she asks, frowning when she realizes that he's still fully clothed, staring pensively at her bedroom floor.

"Waiting for you," he explains quietly, holding his hand out to her.

She comes over to him and stands between his legs, resting her hands on his shoulders while he laces his behind her back, the air around him filling up with the sweet scent of Jo Malone's orange blossom lotion.

"Kate," he begins hesitantly, looking at the floor, pressing the crown of his head into her stomach, and she can't resist running her fingers through his hair, his beautifully dark, baby soft hair.

"Whatever we talk about next…it won't change anything for me," he tells her cryptically, trying to reassure her that if she reveals her secret - her lies - to him, it won't damage them irreparably anymore, like it almost did just a few weeks ago, before she found the courage to fix them in the most definite way possible.

He knows _what_ she has done. He just wants a chance to understand _why_.

"I know," she says, swallowing nervously, her eyes flitting to his face and away again. "Come on. Get into bed. Don't think I can stay standing for much longer," she confesses, leaving his arms to go round to her side of the bed.

* * *

He watches her peel off her leggings and then lift her sweatshirt over her head, until she is standing in just a thin white camisole and her underwear. He will never get tired of seeing those long legs and that body as long as he lives, he thinks, hoping that he never has to give her up, now that he finally has her.

She tosses a couple of decorative throw pillows onto the chair by the bed and gets in under the covers, lifting questioning eyes to him in the process.

"Castle, what's wrong?" she asks, patting the space beside her and then throwing back the covers, if any more of an invitation to join her in her bed was needed.

He wants to know, has wanted to know, so badly and for so long. But now that this discussion is getting close, now that he is peering over the precipice, he thinks he might be terrified and that actually being with her might be all that matters to him now; that maybe that is enough.

"We don't have to do this right now," he says, making a complete one-eighty from his request in her kitchen not five minutes ago.

"If you're too tired, or your head hurts…yes, we can wait," she says, rolling onto her side as he settles in next to her, in her bed for the very first time.

Her bed linen smells of the vanilla and lavender dryer sheets he spotted in her kitchen, and his head swims with this fragrant assault on his poor abused senses. He has stripped down to his boxer shorts and t-shirt, and a shiver runs through him as his legs slide down over the cool sheet, his aching body finally starting to relax against the firmness of the mattress.

"How _is_ your head?" asks Kate, gently touching the two Steri-strips the EMT fixed over the laceration to his temple, the dark purple contusion spreading out in a radius around it.

"Pills are working. I'll take a couple more later," he tells her, kissing her fingertips for caring.

* * *

Kate settles further down in bed, laying her head on his shoulder, letting her hand come to rest on his stomach underneath the covers. She slides one leg over one of his to get closer to him, while she fights to keep her thoughts PG with his hard, muscled…_everything_ underneath her.

"Is this okay?" she asks, glancing up at him, still so careful with one another. "I'm not too heavy on top of you?"

Castle laughs. He actually laughs out loud, shaking her whole body in the process, since nothing could be further from the truth, both literally and figuratively.

"Kate, you're light as a feather," he tells her, toying with the thin strap on her camisole, then trailing his fingers down her bare arm.

What he doesn't tell her is that whatever burden she may have been to him at one time, he has never been able to let go, could never give up, will never ever let her fall if he can do something to prevent it.

She takes a few calming breaths, letting her fingers swirl in an intricate pattern over his heart while she decides at which point she should pick up this tale of theirs.

"_So_…the day I came to visit you in the hospital?" prompts Castle, breaking the warm, comforting silence of her bedroom.

And so her decision is made for her; taken out of her hands. This is where he wants her to start.

"You sure you want to do this now?" she asks, shifting to look up at him.

"Kate, you said it yourself when you were…when _we_ were sitting on your bathroom floor. You said you needed to talk. Well, _I_ need you to talk too. This is…there are some things I need to understand. I'm sure you can already guess most of them. But…how about if I listen, and if there are blanks…"

He trails off, kissing the crown of her head as an affectionate encouragement, her curls dried now, looser than her usual sculpted style, and they tickle his nose.

"Okay," she says carefully. "If you're sure."

"I am. We need to do this," he tells her, easing them both upright until they're sitting propped up against her headboard.

* * *

"So the day you came to visit me…" she begins, turning slightly towards him.

"When Josh was by your bedside," he adds, forking his own heart once more with the memory of the two of them chatting in what seemed like such an intimate way, recalling the kiss Josh pressed to her forehead that he only gets to do now, all these months later.

"I thought you said you were going to listen?" she scolds lightly, before recommencing.

"Sorry, shutting up now."

"When I came round, I felt like hell. Physically and emotionally, I was at the lowest point since my mom was murdered. My body ached all over. Even breathing hurt. I could barely move for sutures and wires and…and I hated it, Castle. Being that weak, that vulnerable, unable to look after myself. I hated every single second of it."

"You'd just been shot, Kate," he reminds her. "Anyone would feel the same."

"Yes, at my mentor's funeral," she points out, her voice rising passionately. "Montgomery was dead because of me. You and I…we…" she halts, biting her lip before continuing.

"When you came to my apartment that night, and we argued, I was so angry at you for presuming to know what was best for me. Despite all of the evidence staring me in the face," she admits for the first time. "But I was pushing you that night too. Because you were right, we never talked about any of the things that mattered."

"I was trying to get you to stop because everyone connected with the case wound up dead, and you…you were going to be next."

"But it was _my life_," she argues, not for the first time. "To do with as I pleased."

"Then _you_ tell me why I had your dad come visit me to ask me to get you to stop? Or…or why Montgomery seemed to think that I was the only one you would listen to, Kate? Because _you_ might have thought that it was your life and yours alone. But that wasn't what everyone else seemed to think. Everyone we know had the pair of us bound up in this…this _complicated partnership situation_ that somehow made _me_ as responsible for _you_ as I was for myself. And it terrified me."

His voice is shaking, going over all of this again, dredging it up and trying to make her understand without forcing on her at this point the simple fact that he was in love with her, so he'd have done almost anything to get her to stop.

"What are you talking about?" she asks, drawing her knees up in front of her, sounding wary and suspicious. "My dad? Montgomery? What…? You're talking in riddles, Castle. Is that why you came to see me that night?"

"I came to see you because I cared about what happened to you and I believed that your life was in danger. I still believe that everything I told you that night was the truth, Kate. You _were_ hiding, you were scared to live…at least fully."

"What does my dad have to do with any of that?"

"This isn't supposed to be my confession," he says, getting uncomfortable that this is rapidly going off track, and they've barely even begun.

"You brought it up, Castle. Full disclosure. We agreed we'd be honest with each other. So I need to know."

He rubs a hand over his face, feels him mouth going dry, anxious that sharing this with her is going to push her away somehow.

* * *

"He…he showed up at the loft the night before I came to see you," he confesses, raising his eyes to read her reaction to this piece of news.

"What, so, out of the blue, he just shows up at your door? He'd never even _met_ you."

"Exactly. Threw me too," he admits. "But what was I going to do? He's your _dad_, Kate. I could hardly turn him away."

"So, what did he say?" she asks warily.

"He wanted to know how dangerous was the guy that you were after, and then…" Castle sighs, not really wanting to relive her dad's visit for Kate's sake.

"Then what? Please, just tell me. I knew none of this."

"It was hard to hear, Kate. To witness. How hurt he was, how worried about you."

When Castle pauses to regroup, Kate lifts one of the pillows from behind her and hugs it to her body like a shield, no longer touching him anymore.

"Do you want me to go on?" he asks, eyes searching hers.

"Please. I need to hear this."

"He said that he had already lost his wife, but that he had…and I have no idea how you even begin to do this, but he said he'd made his peace with that. He came to see me because he wanted me to persuade you that _your life_ was worth more than your mother's death, because he didn't want to lose you too," he confesses, waiting for her reaction to see just how hard this truth will hit her.

"How could he even think…? He didn't even _know_ you. He'd never even met you, and now he was dumping this at your…" she says angrily.

"_Kate!_" interrupts Castle sharply, to get her to stop and listen.

"What?"

"He seemed to know quite a bit about me…from _you_, he said."

She flushes pink at being exposed by her own father.

"He said that you cared about me and he could see that I cared about you. He told me…hell, he practically _ordered me_ not to let you throw your life away, Kate. How could I not do that for him? How could I not at least _try_ to get you to listen, to see sense? I already knew he was right, and then Montgomery…"

"Montgomery what?" she asks sharply, stiffening.

"I tried to talk to you at the precinct the next day. I was going to suggest that we went away for a bit. But then the boys and the case got in the way, as usual. So, I went to see Roy. Asked him to take you off the case," he confesses, waiting for the door to hit him in the ass, only she keeps deathly quiet this time.

"But he laid the exact same thing on me. How I was the only one you would listen to," and he laughs bitterly. "All these people," he says, looking scared and exasperated. "All these people were putting their faith in _me_ to…to protect _you_, to get you to stand down. Not _Josh_. Not your _boyfriend_. _Me, Kate!_ And I was useless. When it came down to it, I held too much back. I should have tried harder to make you understand…to make you see…"

"You tried pretty hard, as I recall. I just wasn't ready to listen."

"Yeah, seems there's been a lot of that," he mutters bitterly, and Kate feels her chest getting tight.

It's her turn now to confess and explain, and even though they are together now and this is in the past, it somehow doesn't make saying any of this any easier.

* * *

"The day you came to the hospital," she tries again, changing tack, full disclosure, "I felt so faded, so weakened, in a way I never had before. My whole persona, my identity, my ability to do my job, _who I was_, all of that was built around my physical strength, my stamina, my independence. It's what made me feel safe, and…and powerful. Without that I was _nothing_. I felt diminished, less…I felt _ugly_."

"Kate…"

"No. Please let me finish. You showed up looking…oh god, you were a sight for sore eyes, let me tell you. Dressed in black, sexy, and _so very alive_, Castle. It was all I could do to let you look at me at all. I wasn't the Kate Beckett you knew anymore. I was a cripple, an invalid. _A victim_."

Maybe, but you were still the Kate Beckett I was in love with, he has to fight not to say out loud.

"I was this broken thing; an animal that had been hunted to the point of near death. And when you started to ask what I'd remembered about the day of the shooting…"

"You said that there are some things that are better not being remembered," he says coolly, the words echoing round his brain once more, just as they had every night in the dark, as he lay awake wondering just where she was, if she was safe, if she was happy, and if she even thought of him anymore.

"I know. I know I did," she says, sounding contrite, lowering her gaze to the soft, dark expanse of her comforter when she can no longer bear to look at him.

"You looked me in the eye and you said that you remembered being on that podium and then everything went black. That that was all you could remember, Kate."

"Please?" she whimpers, shaking her head, ashamed at her cowardice now, mortified by her own lies.

Because wounded or not, there was never any excuse for lying to this man. Not after everything he had tried to do for her, including throwing himself in the path of the bullet that was meant for her, his own family be damned.

"But you remembered everything, didn't you?" he states simply, coldly.

The tears shining in her eyes and then spilling down her cheeks say it all. She has no need to answer.

They are sitting in her bed, emotional and exhausted, and he doesn't want this to turn into a fight, but he still needs to know.

"_Didn't you?_" he repeats insistently, pushing hard, exorcising his own demons, and grabbing a second chance to do this better this time round.

"_Yes!_" she finally wails, thumping the pillow she's clinging onto.

"Why?" he asks quietly, back to containing his anger.

* * *

When she doesn't reply, he carries on with his own memories of that day, trying to make her see how badly her decisions affected them both.

"You sent me away, Kate. Knowing how I felt about you. You said you needed some time. You said that you would call. But you never called. I waited. I made myself sick and dizzy staring a my phone so often that one day…one day it got to be too much and I threw the damn thing against a wall. Then…then I find myself scrambling around on my hands and knees in an alley trying to put the pieces back together again…just in case you ever did call," he confesses, as the tears drip down her chin.

"But…you never did."

"Castle, I wanted to," she says, choking back a sob, reaching for his hand.

"_Then why didn't you?_" he asks, hurt and anger spilling out in a way he can't help, raising his voice to bounce of her peaceful while walls and then catch in his throat.

"Every day, once I got out of that hospital, _every day_ was a struggle from beginning to end."

"Josh help you with that?" he asks bitterly, regretting his self-pitying words the instant they are out of his mouth.

Kate stares at him, realizing this is another thing he doesn't yet know. He has the bare facts but not the detail.

"We broke up. I told you."

"When?"

She looks into his eyes, wiping away a tear, and then bites her lip before confessing.

"The same day you came to visit me," she says in a tiny voice, doubling over to cling to her stomach, tears falling freely onto the pillowcase.

"Why?" asks Castle calmly, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice, fighting not to reach for her until they're out the other side of this.

She grabs a Kleenex from her nightstand and blows her nose.

"_Why, Kate?_" repeats Castle, pushing her like he feels he should have done a year ago. "Why that day, hmm? Why then?"

She dabs at her eyes and then she looks right at him, no flinching.

"Because I had to," she bites back angrily, raising her own voice this time. "…because I was in love with you too," she finally gets out, exhausted, sucking in a shocked sob of a breath at the end.

* * *

Silence falls over the bedroom again, aside from the occasional sniff from Kate and the click of her heating. But she calms a little, enough to explain.

"When I saw you that day, god you took my breath away, Castle, and I just knew. Things hadn't been right between Josh and I from the beginning. I was sharing things with you…things about my past, my mom, the case…just, lots of little things, including my time, that I wasn't willing to share with the guy who was supposed to be my boyfriend. I tried, but I couldn't get you out of my head. And it wasn't fair on any of us anymore. Least of all him."

"How'd he take it?" growls Castle, anger and jealousy still surging through him, making his hands curl into fists at the very though of Josh Davidson.

"He," she shakes her head. "He wasn't surprised. Maybe by the timing, since I was so sick. We fought over it, had words, and he threw something out there about me going running to you. Ironic, isn't it. All that time you thought I was with Josh and he thought I was with you."

"So, why didn't you come to me, Kate? I could have helped you, looked after you. I was miserable without you. Going out of my mind."

She shakes her head at him, a fresh wave of tears coursing silently down her face.

"I watched you die that day. But I clung onto the fact that you'd heard me tell you that I loved you. That at least there was that. To find out you hadn't…it was as if you'd been shot all over again."

She covers her mouth with her hand to hold back a sob, her eyes wide and watery as they move over his poor, bruised face, absorbing just what she did to him.

"I was made to feel pretty unwelcome after that fight with Josh in front of your dad. He blamed me for you, for Roy, just as much as I blamed myself. So, when you asked to see me…god, I was so nervous," he confesses, smiling in spite of everything. "I feared that part of my life was over, that you were gone for good. And then suddenly there you were…"

He smiles softly at the memory of seeing her for the first time after her surgery: pale, haunted, fail, but still undeniably beautiful; still undeniably Kate.

"Looking like death warmed over," she says wryly, trying to raise a smile to match his.

"No. Looking like my Kate," he says, briefly touching her cheek.

She leans into his hand, letting more tears fall, the grief of all the loss and loneliness of that time flooding out in front of the one man who would gladly have shared the load with her all those months ago.

"I had to heal myself," she tries to explain, embarrassed that it sounds selfish and cowardly now, but trying to cling on to this explanation for her own ends too, lest self-doubt creep in.

"I'm so sorry that I hurt you in the process. But I wanted to be better…for myself and for you. It's what I thought you deserved, Castle. It was the only way I thought we stood a chance; if I could fix myself and close that case once and for all."

"You're too proud, Kate. I could have helped. You know you only had to ask…anything. I would have done anything."

"Maybe. It seems like so much lost time now. I actually don't know how I went three months without seeing this face," she says, smiling faintly, reaching out to run her fingers along his jaw, skirting the dark crescent beneath his right eye with her thumb.

"I just knew that if I called you I would have been dragging myself into everything I was trying to get some space from."

"Me included?"

"When you put it like that it sounds so bad, I know. But in a way, yes. Someone killed my Captain, Castle. My friend. And then they tried to kill me. We were…_so complicated_," she sighs, running a hand through her hair. "And then out of the blue you tell me that you love me…just as I think I'm dying. I had to wonder if you even meant it, if it wasn't just some knee-jerk reaction to the hell we were in."

"Out of the blue?" he repeats, as if she's insane. "How could you not have _known_ by then?" he asks, sounding close to devastated. "How could you not have known how I felt about you, Kate?"

"Because you said it yourself at my apartment that night. We never talked about any of that…about us, what any of it meant. We hid away from our feelings for so long, and then it got to be too hard to deal with, to shift gears, after a while."

Kate looks up at him again, her face a mixture of shame and apology.

* * *

"I was ready to start something with you the summer you invited me out to the Hamptons. The summer you left with Gina," she admits quietly, watching his face fall in shock. "After that, when you disappeared until the fall, I tried to cut myself off from wanting you all together," she tells him quite matter-of-factly.

"How can we possibly have made this big a mess of everything? That was over two years ago, Kate."

He looks about ready to cry, while she is the dry-eyed one now.

"I think maybe we needed this time. Look at everything we've been through since then. Do you honestly think we would have survived all of that if we'd jumped into this two years ago?"

"I'd like to hope."

"Yeah, well, hope isn't always enough, Rick," she tells him, her pragmatic side coming to the fore even in this moment of high emotion.

"Did it help? Being alone while you were recovering?" He needs new images to replace the black hole of despair that this time occupies in his memory.

"You know what? I am so tired right now," she says, turning to place the pillow she's been hugging behind her again. Why don't we sleep for a bit, and then we can talk some more?"

He looks crestfallen for a second, until he gives himself over to the sheer exhaustion that has been waiting in the wings, calling to him for the last few hours.

* * *

"I meant what I said earlier," he tells her, as she settles in against her own pillow. "None of this changes anything for me, Kate. I just want to understand what happened back then, if it helps us with where we are now."

"I know," she sighs, reaching behind her to find the curve of his hip and draw him closer.

He's so relieved when she touches him that he immediately gathers her in his arms, pressing his chest to her back, his body molding around hers in the middle of her bed.

He kisses her bare shoulder, as she closes her eyes, letting out one long, exhausted, shuddering sigh.

"Sleep," she murmurs, sliding her hand along his forearm, until her fingers wrap around his elbow, flexing to indicate that he should hold her tighter.

They've made a good start, he thinks, his mind spooling back over snatches of their conversation; her openness, all the long kept secrets being revealed one by one, more than he would have imagined possible just twenty-four hours ago. Warmth spread through him when he recalls that she confessed to being in love with him.

And then his eyes get heavy when his breathing falls in step with Kate's, her warm, pliant body nestled in the protection of his. And finally sleep drags him under to dream of the beach, of shells tinkling in the surf, the whispering hush of long, dune grasses swaying in the sea breeze, and Kate, running along the sand, her laughter playing in the salty air.

All that might have been. And all he hopes is yet to come.

_A/N: Bit heavy on the angst in this talk, but sadly, no way round it. I still think there is more to explore here from the time they spent apart, if you'll indulge me a little longer? And please also tell me if you think this story is wearing thin. It's easy to get sucked in and lose perspective at times. Liv_


	12. Chapter 12 Healing From The Inside

Disclaimer: Who am I kidding, never gonna be an issue.

* * *

_**What If…?**_

_Chapter 12: Healing From The Inside_

When Kate finally awakens, four hours have passed while they've been out cold and it's already turning dark outside, long shadows beginning to stretch and yawn across the bedroom floor.

She can feel Castle's warmth at her back, can hear his steady, even breathing, a slight rise and fall with every breath in and every exhale, and it comforts her in ways she never imagined, having him curled up next to her like this. They've moved apart slightly in sleep, but the fingers of his left hand are still resting on her hip, the tips dipping possessively into the concave curve of her abdomen, as if he's still trying to tell her that he's never letting go.

She turns carefully to face him, sliding her hand onto his stomach, pressing her nose into his shoulder. He feels hot, his t-shirt slightly damp, the warm smell of fabric softener and Richard Castle rising from beneath the covers, and she rubs her cheek over the soft swell of cotton that covers his biceps while he sleeps on, oblivious.

The skin around his right eye has purpled while they've been sleeping, and she worries that he might have a temperature, but resists the urge to touch his forehead in case he wakes for now. Aside from a brief, drugged doze in a damp basement when they were cuffed together, they have never shared a bed for the purposes of actually sleeping, and so she has no idea if being this warm is just a natural state for her partner.

So much still to learn about this beautiful, caring man. So much wasted time to make up for.

* * *

She gets out of bed, too wired now to sleep, an overwhelm of emotion swirling around her brain after their earlier talk; all the secrets and confessions shared throwing powerful images onto the silver screen of her mind, making her feel restless and edgy, as if there is a task at hand, a job she had to do, calling her to process the lost years they've compressed into mere hours.

Her dad, she has to call her dad. But first, she'll check in with the boys to see how things are going at the Precinct; feeling guilty for having bailed on them today, leaving them to deal with her mess and the fallout with Gates.

She pulls on a baggy, mohair cardigan - the warm, grey fabric soft against her skin - and then she adds her yoga pants and a pair of leather slippers. She stops by the door to watch Castle sleeping, a few damp strands of hair sticking to his forehead, eyes slightly puffy, his features relaxed and untroubled. He looks as defenseless as she's ever seen him, as if sleep has stolen his animated essence. Her heart aches with guilt over the pain she's caused him and she feels ashamed for once by the selfishness of her past choices and actions.

* * *

The copious tears that accompanied her choked confessions, together with the warmth of their shared bed, have dehydrated her, and so she fetches a bottle of water from the fridge and then wanders into the living room to make a call. The time on her cell tells her it's after six, and she switches on a lamp to banish the gloom from the corners of the room.

"Hi, Ryan," she says, tightening her sweater around her when a shiver travels through her body, her skin cooling rapidly without Castle and a heavy down comforter to warm her. "How'd things go this afternoon?"

Ryan gives her a detailed rundown of everything they've missed.

"So, Cristobal's gone for arraignment? No problems? Good. And what about Santos? Did he make it to Rikers yet, before they ship him somewhere up state? Great. Another happy customer for ADA Garcia. What about Gates?" she asks, taking a swig of water, scuffing one slipper-clad foot against the wooden floor in a back and forward rhythm that sounds like '_hush, hush, hush'_.

Ryan tells Kate that the Captain has been downtown at a budget meeting all afternoon and hasn't come back yet. So they're all off the hook for now. Then he asks about Castle.

"He…uh…"

Kate hesitates, twisting a curl round her finger and then chewing on the end. They've talked a lot today about so many things, all of them from their past. The subject of what happens next, about their future plans and how to handle their relationship at work and with their families hasn't even come up yet, and she's not sure whether she should speak for both of them at this point.

But Ryan saw her behavior at the club: her frantic concern for Castle when he was injured. He isn't blind, he certainly isn't stupid and he's fiercely loyal, so she takes a risk and confides in her friend.

"He's sleeping right now," she says quietly, looking over her shoulder towards the darkened bedroom. "I'm going to wake him soon, make sure there's no lingering effects from that knock to the head. But he seems okay, other than that."

She gnaws at a hangnail and then pushes on.

"Ryan, you won't say anything?" she asks, covering her eyes with her hand, embarrassed to be asking him this favor. "To Gates, I mean. Only…"

"Beckett, say no more. Your secret's safe with me. Really," he reassures her, and she sinks back against the couch cushions with a cool wash of relief.

"Thanks, Kevin. Appreciate it."

"Don't mention it. Oh, and Kate?"

"Yes?"

"Tell Castle we're happy for you guys."

* * *

She curls up in the far corner of her couch while she waits for the next call to connect, a cashmere throw pulled over her legs.

"Hey, dad," she smiles into the phone, trying to lift her game a little, images of her dad's worried face as he implored Castle to help his little girl save herself from harm swirling in front of her eyes and closing her throat.

How desperate must her very private, reserved father have been to turn up unannounced at the door of a complete stranger, one-time playboy novelist no less, to plead for help to save his own daughter's life?

Her father's response to this unsolicited, unscheduled phone call tells her a lot about how their relationship is still damaged too.

"Katie, what's wrong?" he asks, voice immediately gear-shifting towards concern.

"Nothing's wrong, dad. Just thought I'd give you a call," she lies, closing her eyes and squeezing them tightly shut against her own default setting, which still seems jammed on avoid, avoid, avoid.

"Okay," he stretches out, the wheels in his lawyerly brain turning so loudly that she imagines she can hear the click when he selects '_play along with Katie_' in his repertoire of fatherly responses.

"Work okay? You backed up with cases these days?" he asks, jumping off onto the safe ground of her job, both of them hiding out in homicide in a way that seems unhealthy, yet unavoidable at this point.

"We took a major drug supplier down this morning," she offers. "Cut a good deal for the dealer who gave him up with this new ADA, guy named Garcia, who just joined the team downtown. Seems more progressive than most. Doesn't think all cops are slack at their jobs and all perps are bullet-proof," she adds, knowing how her dad likes to hear about her brushes with the seedier side of the legal profession.

"And how's that partner of yours?" he asks, as he does on a continual basis. "Still driving you crazy?"

This has become something of a joke topic between them. Her father teases, she pushes back, avoids, giggles sometimes when she shares a story about one of Castle's latest crazy theories, and then they move on to talk about something else; something safer. It's a well-worn part of their script that they never deviate from…until today.

* * *

"Rick is…" she smiles, shy and embarrassed all of a sudden, despite the fact that she is alone in her living room and has no one to witness this conversation with her dad.

"Oh, _Rick_ now, is it?" teases her dad, missing nothing as usual, and she can hear the smile in his voice. "Something you want to tell me, Katie?"

"Uh, yes?" she cringes, biting her lip, while she hears her father's laughter down the phone line.

"Finally," he says, sounding relieved, warm and sincere. "I'm so pleased for you. For both of you. He's a good man, Katie. A really good man."

"Thanks, dad," she nods gratefully, as a tear rolls down her cheek. "He is," she agrees.

For the thousandth time today she wonders why she waited so long to acknowledge this to herself, to let him be _her_ good man, when he has tried so hard and for such little return from her.

"He loves you, Katie. I know that much. I think that is one man who would do just about anything for you," interjects her father, mirroring her own thoughts.

"I love him too, dad," she reassures him, knowing exactly what her father means, a discussion they don't need to get into right now.

"I'm so happy for you, Katie. You make a great team."

"Dad, I have to go. Rick is…he got hurt in the operation I was just telling you about. I have to go check on him. Brunch on Sunday?" she asks, by way of compensation for a call cut short.

Because suddenly all she can think is that she needs to go into her bedroom and watch her partner sleep, and then wake him up and remind herself that this is real. She finally did the hardest part and it really wasn't that hard at all. She vows to hold onto that for future reference; that her greatest fears can turn out to be her greatest, most rewarding triumphs, if only she can face up to them, if only she can dive right in.

They part with a plan and a promise to meet on the weekend. Her dad asks her to bring Rick along, and she promises to try. It feels good, admitting this new love to him, accepting his part in how they are bound to one another by history, tragedy, fate, perhaps, and experiences lived through and survived.

* * *

Castle is still sound asleep when she reenters the bedroom, and for one crazy second she wants to shake him awake to make sure he's still breathing, a wave of panic at the terrifying potential for loss breaking over her with such dramatic force that she shivers hard.

He stirs when she crawls onto the mattress next to him and it dips a little, rocking him. But then he rolls towards her pressing his face deeper into the pillow, nonsense mumbles emitting from his lips.

"Castle," she whispers, brushing the damp hair off his forehead, pressing her cool fingers to his warm skin to check his temperature.

He is definitely warm, but not dangerously so, and at least that's something.

"Kate?" he murmurs, lips forming into a silly smile as opens his eyes and then stretches his long body out across the bed, arching his spine, arms and legs thrown wide like a starfish for a few seconds, until he shudders and then collapses into a boneless heap.

"We were on the beach," he tells her, in an unguarded post-sleep moment, and he brushes his head back and forth across the pillow looking as if he's in no rush to get up anytime soon.

"The beach, huh?" she smiles, watching him come round, his face still adorably out of focus, almost childlike. "Sounds nice."

"Yeah, you were laughing," he tells her, as if this is something noteworthy for its rarity value, and her stomach churns at the thought that this man values her laughter so much for its scarcity alone.

She makes a mental note to let herself laugh more, to let go any opportunity she gets.

"What time is it?" he asks, becoming more present by the second.

"Half-past six. You should really get up or you won't sleep tonight," she says, watching his eyes begin to map her face, her neck, the exposed sweep of her chest and stomach where her sweater has fallen open to reveal the thin camisole underneath.

"You planning on sleeping tonight, Beckett?" he grins lazily, stretching one long arm up to capture the back of her neck and topple her onto him for a tender apology of a kiss.

"You have a head injury," she whispers, running her teeth along his scruffy jaw, a day and a half without shaving leaving it outlined in shadows, like a rough charcoal sketch.

"I have an exceptionally hard head, detective," he promises, kissing her eyelids and then pressing his nose to her cheek to breathe her in.

"Won't argue with that," she jokes, planting a quick kiss to his damp forehead. "You need a shower, young man. I'll make dinner. Towels are…well, you already know where my towels are," she says, remembering how he rescued for from a watery oblivion of grief not eight hours ago.

"You're making me dinner too?" he grins, catching her hand before she can leave his bedside.

"Mmm. But don't tell anyone. They'll think I'm sweet on you," she replies, touching his cheek, blushing when he stares into her eyes, knowing exactly just how sweet on him she is.

"Kate, are you okay?" he asks, dispensing with humor for a second to get back to the pared to the bone truth.

"I'm good. Don't worry. Go shower. I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready," she reassures him.

* * *

Kate throws together a quick pasta dish. She cubes a Spanish chorizo sausage, chops an onion, one small red chilli, a clove of garlic - since they'll both be eating this meal and the aroma won't matter - and then she fries the lot off in a pan using only the picante paprika oil released from the chorizo to season the pan.

She can hear Castle singing in the shower - Taylor Swift if she's not mistaken - the words '_ever, ever, ever_' bouncing around her bedroom walls when she peaks inside to watch him.

Then she goes back to making their dinner, grinning at her ridiculous, sweet, adorable boyfriend.

A can of chopped plum tomatoes, one of borlotti beans, a handful of raisins, black olives, and one of pine nuts go into the mix, and then she throws some dried penne into a pan of boiling, salted water to cook when she hears Castle opening and closing what she hopes is just '_his'_ drawer in her bedroom.

* * *

"Something smells amazing," he tells her, sneaking up to steal a kiss, while she tears a handful of basil leaves from the small pot on her kitchen window ledge. She gets a fright, and the small pot topples, skittering in a tight circle across the tile until she rights it again.

His hair is still damp, toweled dry and so more messy looking than usual. It falls in dark, jagged spikes across his forehead, utterly distracting her and making her fingers itch to reach up and touch him.

"Yes, _you_ _do_," flirts Kate, pressing her lips to his neck, before moving to the stove to offer him a wooden spoonful of sauce to taste.

"Mmm, that…now _that_ is some good ol' home cooking," he declares. "Just what the doctor ordered."

"Great. I'm about ready to serve up. Grab me some bowls from the top shelf?" she asks, draining the pasta into the sink.

Kate dishes up their food, grates fresh Parmesan over the top and plants a couple of extra baby basil leaves in the center of each dish.

She set the table while he was showering, and a bottle of red wine sits open and breathing in the center.

"You probably shouldn't be drinking, since you're taking medication. But I thought maybe half a glass after the day we've had…?"

"My head feels fine. Bruise hurts like hell, but I don't think there's any permanent damage," he assures her, pouring each of them a glass.

* * *

"So, how long before you woke me did _you_ get up? I didn't hear you leave," he says, a worried look briefly crossing his face as he recalls everything they unloaded on one another right before they slept.

At least he hopes she slept.

"Not long. Maybe half an hour. I called the precinct. Spoke to Ryan. He said Gates has been out all day at a budget meeting."

"Oh, great. That'll put her in a good mood," groans Castle. "What do you think we can expect tomorrow?"

"Transfer went through for Santos. Cristobal was arraigned this afternoon. So we cleared a homicide off the board and we took down a local drug supplier as an added bonus. Her Comp Stats will look good. So I'm hoping she'll have had a pat on the back from the DA's office, another from Narcotics, and we'll be in the clear."

"You really believe that?" asks Castle, forking another mouthful of food while he watches her from across the table.

Kate smiles, covering her mouth with her hand, and then takes a sip of water.

"Yeah, starting to sound like I've been drinking your Kool Aid," she laughs, continuing to eat.

"You should laugh more often, Kate," says Castle, his head slightly tilted to the side as he watches her with an easy smile on his face.

"Don't worry. I intend to," she promises. "I owe you, Castle."

"Owe me how?"

"For…for changing so much about me, about my life…for making it better," she admits, putting her fork down and toying nervously with the stem of her wineglass.

"Wow! That is _not _what you were saying four years ago when we first met."

"Yeah, well, it was a slow burn. And I might have been an idiot."

"Never. You were cautious, and rightly so. I was the idiot. But we got there in the end, and I like to think that's all that counts."

"I love that you're such a romantic, so optimistic," Kate confesses, in an uncharacteristic moment of openness. "I know I pretend that I don't need all that stuff, but…I think everyone needs a little hope in their lives, to be able to believe there is something better out there. My mom always believed that for sure."

"And then she met your dad," points out Castle, watching her reaction to the dangerous parallel he just drew between the two couples.

Kate eats thoughtfully for a few seconds, looking unperturbed by Castle's pronouncement, probably because she has one of her own to make.

* * *

"I called my dad," she tries to casually throw into the conversation, licking her lips and then pouring more wine.

Castle's head shoots up from his pasta.

"When?"

"While you were sleeping. He said to tell you he was pleased for us. I mean, _really_ pleased," she grins, her eyes twinkling in the warm glow from the flickering candles sitting in the middle of the table.

"You told him?" asks Castle, sounding completely surprised.

"I…I'm sorry. Did I overstep? Did you want to keep it a secret?" she frowns. "Because I know you have Alexis to consider and…"

"Kate," he says, reaching for her hand across the table, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. "It's fine. In fact, I think it's great that you shared with your dad. I'm just surprised, is all."

"He thinks a lot of you," she continues, determined to stick with full-disclosure from now on.

"I'm glad. Because I think a helluva lot about his daughter."

"He invited you to brunch on Sunday…I mean, only if you're free, of course. I don't…" she hums as she pauses, suddenly hesitant and unsure. "I mean we haven't exactly talked about how any of this is going to…"

Castle chuckles quietly and leans back in his chair, watching Kate spiral a little under the weight or her over-organized, overly serious brain.

"What?" she asks, eyeing him suspiciously, while he grins affectionately at her.

"Just..._you._"

"What, now you're laughing at me? Already? What about the honeymoon period?"

"No. I'm admiring how you're taking this in your stride, not freaking out, telling your dad, sharing stuff with me. I like it, Kate. You're good for us."

"Mmm," she hums dubiously, not entirely convinced.

"As for the honey moon period…" Castle teases, to her complete mortification.

"Don't. Please? That just kind of popped out."

"For now, I will leave it. Not forever though."

Kate shakes her head silently, still blushing, and then she rises from the table to collect their dishes. Maybe running just a little from this particular discussion.

* * *

"Oh, and I asked Ryan to keep things on the down low with Gates," she tosses back over her shoulder by way of a little revenge attack.

"You told _Ryan?_" squeaks Castle, hurrying after her into the kitchen.

"Yes," confirms Kate, smiling calmly while Castle gets himself in a froth this time.

"Sorry," he says, shaking his head as if trying to clear water from his ears. "You _actually_ told Ryan that you and I are together?" he asks, for want of better expression.

"I didn't have to spell it out to him exactly," says Kate, stepping closer to Castle and wrapping her arms around his middle.

He gratefully drapes his arms around her shoulders, while she rests her head on his chest.

"You mean he _knew_?" he asks, his voice vibrating through the top of her skull.

"I already told you. Those matching shirts this morning, Castle. Total giveaway. And you should have seen your face in that coffee shop. You just couldn't stop smiling," she scolds, laughing quietly, as she presses her nose into his shoulder, thinking that her soap smells really good on him.

"Oh, so it wasn't the way you were holding my hand in the basement or the back of that ambulance? Couldn't have been that. Oh, no," he teases. "Or the phone call with Esposito this afternoon, when you admitted that I was here with you at your apartment?"

"They are detectives. I told you already, Castle. It's their job," she smirks.

"You are truly terrible at this," he laughs. "But I like it," he admits, kissing her softly. "Think they'll be able to keep a secret?"

"I think they'll try. They understand that our partnership is at stake, so they're not going to blow our cover if they can help it. But, maybe you should talk to Alexis to clue her in anyway."

"Good point. Mind if I call her now? She doesn't know I'm not at home drowning my sorrows with John Woo anymore."

* * *

Kate washes their dinner dishes while Castle chats to Alexis in her living room. When he comes back through, he has a pensive look on his face.

"I take it that did not go well? " she asks, drying her hands on a towel.

"She just needs some time," he admits, leaning against the island.

"She's a smart girl, and I hurt you badly. I wouldn't blame her for being a little suspicious."

"She…she's just protective of me."

"Well, I'm just going to have to work extra hard to prove her wrong."

"We'll be fine. Once she sees how we are together… Kate, if your dad can accept me after that fistfight with Josh in the hospital…"

"That's the second time you've mentioned that. What fistfight? I don't know anything about that."

"Bed or couch?" asks Castle, taking the kitchen towel out of her hands and depositing it on the counter.

"You're definitely staying?" asks Kate, looking a mixture of hopeful and relieved.

"If that's okay with the lady detective?" he asks, walking her through to the living room with his hands on her shoulders, pleased to see how eager she is to have him here.

"How about we take this to bed? And then we can talk some more. About that fistfight for starters," says Kate, holding up the bottle of wine.

"I'm liking you more by the hour, Katherine Beckett. All this talking and sharing, wine in bed and cooking me dinner. I think I could quite easily fall in love with you," he says, backing her up against the dining table until she's pinned between its solid form and her partner's warm body.

"I thought you already were," she whispers breathlessly, her warm words puffing over his chin, as she holds back from kissing him until he answers her.

Castle grazes his lips over hers and a jolt of electricity shoots through her core, building a warm flush in her midsection, making her skin tingle and burn and her heart begin to pound.

He sneaks his tongue out to wet her lips, and then he strokes inside when she parts them for him, moaning into his mouth.

"All. Over. Again. Kate," he whispers against her damp, swollen lips, nudging her legs apart with his thigh, before devastating her mouth with his own.

_A/N: Hope you enjoyed this continued glimpse into what their day after John Woo could have been. Few more to go… Liv_


	13. Chapter 13 Filling In The Blanks

Disclaimer: There's a pigeon peering in my window right now. Bet Marlowe doesn't have to content with stuff like that!

* * *

_**What If…?**_

_Chapter 13: Filling In The Blanks_

"Come on. Let's take this to bed," murmurs Kate, breathing heavily, pulling her sweater back up onto her shoulder and easing herself out from under the firm press of Castle's thighs, dropping her fingers from his hip.

"Words I dreamed I would one day hear tumble from your lips," jokes Castle, picking up their wine glasses and following her to the bedroom.

"You sure that bump on the head hasn't damaged anything?" teases Kate in return, her grin as broad as her partner's while he shadows her to her room.

Kate shakes out the comforter, smoothing it down and then plumping pillows, since she failed to remake the bed after Castle got up earlier.

"We seem to be spending a lot of time in here these days," notes Castle, with a suggestive lift of his eyebrow.

"That sounds a lot like a complaint from the man who's spent the last four years trying to get me into bed."

"_Me?_" he squeaks, feigning shock.

"Yes, you," smirks Kate, lighting a couple of candles and then topping up their wine glasses.

When she turns around, Castle is already under the covers, and he's holding her pillows hostage.

"Get in here now, Detective," he growls, turning the comforter back for her.

"Ordering me around. Ricky? Not a smart move," she reminds him, shaking her head, wagging a finger and holding her ground. "Have I taught you nothing?"

"But you know you're going to do it anyway, Kate. Might as well give in now."

"Shut up," she laughs, stripping off her yoga pants and sweater.

"See," crows Castle, when she climbs into bed beside him. "Told ya'."

"Give," she commands, holding out her hands for her pillows, moving halfway down the bed, still facing him.

"Na-huh. No way. Get over here, Kate. Come on," he orders, sneaking out a hand to try to grab for her.

Kate dodges back out of the way, laughing.

"Not until you tell me about this fight with Josh."

"Why are you so fixated on that?"

He's still worried that she has unresolved feelings for the guy, despite what she told him earlier about the timing of their break-up and her reasons for doing so. Her confession on the swings that day, that she '_really liked_ _him'_, still pierces his heart like a needle every time he thinks about it, since they weren't together back then, and he had only a thin, veiled promise of someday to hold onto after three months of complete, devastating silence.

"I…I'm not. You were the one who brought it up. But there are parts of my life are still a complete blank from that day, Castle. Despite what you might think I lied about. My dad wouldn't tell me anything. Said he didn't want to upset me."

"You ever think maybe he was right? Some things are best not remembered. You said so yourself."

"Yeah, well, that was bullshit, and we both know it. I was lying to you to…I don't know, to protect myself. To give myself some breathing space and a little time to work out what to do about everything. What to do about us. You're the only one I can trust to give me answers about that day. To fill in the gaps."

"What do you need to know?" he asks calmly, all trace of joking gone in the face of the faith she's just placed in him.

* * *

He gives her her pillows back, and watches as she creates a protective cocoon for herself with the comforter at her back and a pile of pillows to hug in front of her. She clearly wants space from him while they talk this through, and though that hurts - not being able to touch her - he thinks maybe it is for the best to keep his thoughts clear.

"We're just talking, remember?" she reassures him, eyeing his worried face. "None of this stuff can hurt us anymore, Castle. We're past that now."

"I know," he says unconvincingly, traces of hurt still evident in his voice despite his efforts to hide them.

Kate takes a sip of wine, and then crawls over to deposit her glass on the nightstand, while Castle tries hard not to stare at her inappropriately, crawling over the bed like a seductive cat in just her underwear and a thin cami that hides little from his imagination. Heck, he doesn't even have to use his imagination anymore. Still he's going to be good.

But then Kate starts talking and his mouth goes dry for a whole other reason.

* * *

"So, I remember the sun beating down and it was so hot, standing there in my dress blues. I'm giving the eulogy and you're by my side, to my right. I can feel you there; sense you standing close to me. And it helped me, Castle, to make that speech. It helped to know that you were still there for me even after all the harsh words we'd just exchanged, how things came to an end in my apartment, how hard I fought you in that hangar. I remember turning to look at you. I wanted you to know how grateful I was to have you as my partner. Standing with me. But somehow I found it easier to say these things to a crowd of people gathered in a cemetery, than to tell you to your face. I'm still ashamed of that," she confesses, glancing up from her inspection of the embroidered design on her pillowcase to meet his eyes.

He nods somberly to acknowledge her apology, but before he can say anything, she's talking again.

"I remember continuing with the speech, and then I think I heard the crack of the shot going off. But sometimes I wonder if I just imagined that part," she says frowning, still trying to remember after all this time.

Castle feels himself starting to sweat, his heart fluttering uncomfortably just recalling the detail of that day.

"Did _you_ hear the shot?" she queries, so matter-of-fact, as if she just asked him if he likes sugar in his tea, her face so open and unemotional about the whole thing that it tortures something inside of him that she ever had to go through any of this. The she ever had to work to get over it.

"Kate, are you sure you want to do this? Relive it all over again?"

"Could you live with these blanks in your memory, Castle? Because I'm pretty sure you couldn't."

"When you put it like that, I guess not," he sighs, defeated by her argument. "What do you need from me?"

"Fill me in. So…I hear or I don't hear the shot. But I feel the impact, the burning pain in my chest, and then I'm falling and you're falling with me. Is that what you remember?"

"I…uh…you were delivering the eulogy, and then you looked over at me, and…I remember hoping you were forgiving me. That…we were going to be okay. You were letting me back in for like the hundredth time. And I felt so relieved. But when I fixed my eyes to the front again, I saw something flash. A flare of sunlight glinting off of glass or something about twenty rows in front, close to the pathway and the tree line."

Castle's face is so serious, his eyes out of focus, as he leaves the bedroom and plunges back into the movie reel nightmare he has so often revisited in both his waking and sleeping moments. Trying to put a new slant on the outcome in his dreams. Attempting to figure out a way he could have saved her in his waking hours. He always fails on both counts.

"Go on," she encourages quietly.

"I reacted as fast as I could when I figured it out. Tried to tackle you to the ground before…before the shot could reach you, but…"

"Hey, only Superman is faster than a speeding bullet, Castle," she jokes, trying to make him feel better. "What you did for me that day…"

"Kate, I _failed_ you that day. That bullet hit you. Hell it nearly killed you."

"Everything happens for a reason, Rick," she insists firmly.

"And what earthly purpose could that nightmare have served, beyond putting you in the ground along with Roy? Hmm?" he asks angrily. "Tell me that."

"It showed us what we meant to each other for one thing," she says simply. "You could have gotten yourself killed trying to save me. What about Alexis? Martha? Weren't you thinking about them?"

"All I could think was that I had to save you. That was the only thought in my head," he says, twisting the sheet in his hands.

"And you did. Because I heard you. I heard you begging me not to leave you, to stay with you. I could feel your hands on me, holding me up. Your body shielding me when you leant over me."

"You remember all of that?"

Kate nods.

"And the fear in your eyes. The panic that told me this was as bad as I feared. When I heard you tell me that you loved me it was as if I had permission from somewhere to let go."

"But I wanted you to _fight_," he exclaims. "I wanted you to fight to stay alive, Kate. Not let go."

"I couldn't hang on any longer. I'm sorry. I remember feeling so tired and so peaceful, hearing you say that you loved me. Like the last piece of a puzzle had just been slotted into place. And then nothing, until I woke up after the surgery."

* * *

Castle sits in stunned silence for a few seconds, absorbing Kate's point of view on that day; the way it mirrors, collides with and completes his. Like seeing something in the round; a full 360 degree horror show.

"What happened next?" she asks, reaching forward to touch the back of his hand to get his attention.

"I need a drink," he growls, clearing his throat.

"Wine's right by your elbow," Kate tells him, determined not to give in to his grief until she's heard everything.

"I got in the back of the ambulance with Lanie. They wouldn't let me at first. But Espo argued I was as good as family, forced the EMT's to let me ride along. My mother and Alexis went with your dad, I think. Lanie worked with the paramedic trying to keep you alive the whole way to the hospital, while I sat there like a useless idiot, holding your hand and praying to God for you to survive."

His voice sounds flattened, almost devoid of emotion, despite the terrifying scene he's painting for her.

"Go on."

"Kate?"

"Castle, please?"

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, making it stand on end for a second, spikes shooting off in five different directions, and Kate has to suppress the urge to reach up and smooth it down for him.

"When we got to the hospital, Lanie rode on the gurney with you. You crashed in the ambulance. Pressure kept dropping or something. They were worried you were bleeding out. Anyway, she kept up chest compressions while they wheeled you straight to the O.R. Eventually, the attending insisted she give up and let them take over. She only gave in after a fight."

"Sounds like Lanie," smiles Kate. "Where were you?"

"Right there with her…with you, running after that gurney down this endless hallway, wondering why the hell the O.R. wasn't built closer to the damn ambulance bays."

"You were dying, Kate," he says, so gravely it's as if he almost believes she still might. "And there was nothing I could do but watch you move further and further away from me, just…just prayin' that you had heard me, and that somehow that would be enough," he grits out.

"And the fight? When did that happen?"

"Later. You probably heard Josh was on call that day, and he…he started working on you when you first arrived. I think they made him hand your case off or he recused himself when it became clear your…_association_ with him," he says, feeling the word '_relationship'_ burning his tongue with a bitter acidity, unable to push it past his lips.

"He came out in his scrubs to where we were all waiting. Your dad, my mom, Alexis, Lanie and the boys. I saw your blood splattered all over his shoes…I…he was so angry. And I don't blame him, Kate. I really don't. He wasn't saying anything I didn't already think myself."

"What did he say?"

Castle looks reluctant to tell her.

"Tell me what he said, Castle."

"He said that I had pushed you to look into your mom's murder, that you got shot because of me and Montgomery was dead because of me. I couldn't argue with any of that. But Alexis threw herself in between us trying to defend me, and there was a whole lot of yelling. You're dad shamed us all. He told us not to act like three year olds while you were in there fighting for your life."

"Castle, I'm so sorry you had to deal with that. It wasn't your fault. I had been looking into my mom's murder for years before I even met you. You _know_ that."

"But if I hadn't snooped around, pushed my nose in where it wasn't wanted…you never would have been shot, Kate. I poked the hornet's nest and you paid the price."

"That's not true. I would have taken the case up again eventually, with or without your help. And maybe we wouldn't be sitting here now if you hadn't cared enough to want to get to know my story."

"I wish I'd just tried chocolates and flowers like any normal, red blooded male."

Kate laughs at this, and then she laughs again.

"I'm not really a chocolates and flowers kind of girl, Castle. But I think you figured that out all on your own."

"I love you so much, Kate," he confesses, his worried eyes meeting her smiling ones. "I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost you that day. Though the way you disappeared afterwards felt almost as bad at the time."

* * *

They fall into thoughtful silence for a second, and then Kate manages to regroup, still curious to learn about the weeks they were apart.

"I know I'm sorry isn't ever going to be enough. The boys said you went to the precinct everyday to work on my case," she says softly, the curiosity evident in her voice.

"Yeah. Until Gates arrived and threw me out. I needed that sense of purpose. It was the only way for me to feel as if I was helping you. After she banned me from the precinct, that's when things hit a new low."

"How so?"

"I…I used to find myself just staring over at your desk for whole minutes, remembering all the good times. Even when you yelled at me it was better than this...silence. This nothingness. It sounds pathetic and sappy now, but I would touch your elephants when no one was looking, borrow your pens just because I knew that you had held them, use your coffee cup just to... I even sat in your chair one day," he confesses. "But it felt wrong, and then Espo caught me and smacked me on the back of the head."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. But I deserved it. When I couldn't go in there anymore… Well, I tried to keep up the investigation from home for a while with what few leads I had. But without the precinct to go to my routine lost…well, let's just say it lost its focus."

"Spell out loss of focus for me, Castle. My mindreading powers are taking the day off."

"I stopped getting up before noon. Maybe went a few days without showering. Might have let the odd bottle of Scotch and a collection of dirty tumblers gather in my office. Rookie mistakes," he admits wryly. "I got better at hiding it later."

"Oh, Rick," laments Kate, shaking her head.

"Alexis kicked my ass eventually," he jokes, hiding in humor as usual. "Told me I stank, that I was wasting my life on a pipe dream. I guess that's a part of why she's so angry now. She had to witness all of that: my weakness, my fondness for wallowing and self-pity."

"You never struck me as any of those things."

"That's because there was always you," he says simply. "No way I would have exposed you to that. Besides, I was too busy trying to win your heart and take down criminals to be moping, Kate. But it's a writer's lot to be filled with self-doubt, self-loathing on occasion too. At least this time I had more than the loss of a fictional character or a bout of writer's block to explain my depression."

"Depression?" queries Kate, her voice deeper, strangled in her tightening throat.

"Mmm. That's what Doctor Phil called it," Castle explains without irony.

But Kate misreads his remark, expecting the Castle of old; covering his tracks with humor, keeping everything surface.

"Dr. Phil. Are you serious?" she laughs, lifting her wine glass to her lips again. "So, what? Alexis made you take a shower and then you lost yourself in daytime TV?"

"Yeah. Only I could end up with a therapist named Dr. Phil, right? But he came highly recommended from my doctor," says Castle, shrugging.

"Wait. You were being serious? You _actually_ saw a therapist?"

"Yes," he says, surprised. "That's what I just said. Dr. Phillip Eadie. Dr. Phil for short. He wasn't bald or anything, but…"

Kate is speechless, and she takes another sip of wine while she processes this surprising piece of information, wondering just what else she doesn't know.

* * *

"Castle, I had no idea," she almost whines, guilt churning in her gut.

"Why would you? It's not like we were close then."

"Even so. You've never said anything. All these months have passed and…"

"And what? I'm supposed to share this with you over coffee in the break room? Oh, yeah, Kate, I was so broken hearted when you left that I needed counseling. Oh, hi, Ryan. Hi Espo. Yeah, come on in and hear all about my therapy sessions to get over Beckett," he spits out sarcastically.

He lets out a long, frustrated sigh at himself, at Kate, at every barrier, miscommunication, and lie that ever kept them apart, and finally at how petty and pathetic he sounds right now, throwing this back at her now of all times.

He raises his head in time to see Kate getting out of bed, grabbing her sweater from a chair and leaving the room.

* * *

_A/N: Ooops! Sorry guys, there's more to be mined in their history than I thought. But you know I won't leave them mad at each other for long. Thanks to BURN3 for the therapy idea. Liv_


	14. Chapter 14 Come To Bed

Disclaimer: Not a chance. Behavior unbecoming...

* * *

_**What If…?**_

_**WARNING: Includes M Rated material and language. Not suitable for reading at work.**_

_Chapter 14: Come To Bed_

Castle sits on the edge of Kate's bed, her dark comforter pulled over his knees, lost for a couple of minutes. He's just revealed a pretty big personal secret to her – therapy for two and a half months to deal with his 'Beckett-related issues': the shooting, his role in it, his longstanding unrequited love for the woman, a complete inability to address the issue with her directly, the enormous sense of loss when she never called, his feelings of impotence and lack of entitlement to pursue her, run after her, claim her.

The entirety of it all drove him nuts to the point of not sleeping, not eating, being unable to write another word of Nikki and Rook's story when he and Kate were…well, when he basically thought they were over for good.

When four weeks flipped over into five, he gave up completely on her and on them. He'd always given her the benefit of the doubt before, always blamed his own jackass behavior for her withholding, found tons of excuses and reasons for her to keep him at arm's length; from her mother's murder to her father's alcoholism, his failed marriages, playboy lifestyle, her job, the boys, or on his worst days, when he believed that he simply wasn't good enough. But this, what she was doing now - not so much as a text for her supposed partner in weeks – this was pure cruelty. So, he finally gave up.

* * *

But now he's sitting in her bedroom unsure what to do next. He would never have presumed to go after her in the past…not until a day ago when everything about them changed. He's given her space so many times before when she's asked for it and even when she hasn't. And where did that get him? Four years of sitting on the sidelines while she dated men she didn't love.

Hell, Kyra asked him for space once, a couple of decades ago, when what she really meant was '_follow me to London, Rick_' and look how that turned out. Women say they want space, but they really don't. What they really want is for you to prove how much you love them by being persistent and overcoming every roadblock and emotional barrier they put in your way.

He's done with giving Kate space. It's time to fight for what he wants and for what he knows they both need, time to learn from his own mistakes.

* * *

When he goes out into her living room, the space is empty and dark except for a long shard of moonlight silvering the floor like the cold blade of a knife. He narrowly misses the corner of her coffee table on his way to the kitchen, managing a side step to protect his shins just in the nick of time. And then he sees her, standing in her underwear, long legs stretching from beneath that adorably soft cardigan he's never seen her wear before, the belt hanging loose, dangling near the floor. And despite the seriousness of the moment, the emotional upset, he finds himself wondering if this is another Kate he is yet to be privy too; an off-duty, softer, more casual Kate, who hangs out in mohair and silk, ballet flats and messy buns. He knows one thing for sure - he wants the chance to find out.

She's leaning against the edge of her kitchen sink sipping a glass of water when he catches sight of her. Her shoulders are slightly hunched, her bare toes scrunched up against the cool grain of the hardwood floor and she has one arm banded across her stomach as if in pain. The sodium flare of ambient light leaking in through the window throws shadows that highlight the jut of her shoulder blades when she places the glass down and snatches at a sheet of paper towel from the holder on the wall to blow her nose.

Castle can't hear her crying, can't even see her face, but he can see her distress, her guilt, outlined in the way she carries herself; in the weight that bows her normally erect frame.

Enough.

* * *

"Come back to bed," he says quietly, not wanting to startle her, his voice resonating deeply in her quirky kitchen, his tone one of peacemaking wrapped up in forgiveness.

But from her lack of reaction he suspects that she already knew that he was there, would come looking for her as usual; her ever-present shadow.

He risks getting closer, reaches out hesitantly to touch the center of her spine with his fingertips. The soft mohair yarn of her sweater feels warm against his skin, but he can feel Kate's body trembling underneath this delicate, fragile armor, the open weave as intricate as a spider's web.

"Kate, you're shaking. Let's get you to bed," he insists, planting his hands on her shoulders to turn her around.

"What have I done?" she whispers hoarsely, clutching the wadded up ball of paper towel to her chest.

"Nothing that can't be undone," Castle reassures her. "Now, come. Bed," he tells her, firmly.

She spins around suddenly and buries her face in his neck, almost overbalancing him with the surge of her body up against him.

"Hey, hey, now," soothes Castle, stroking the back of her head, letting his fingers tangle in the loose frizz of curls that lie mussed down her back, while he holds her.

"I've been so selfish," she whispers, her tears soaking into his t-shirt. "So selfish," she repeats, with a shuddering sigh.

Castle stays silent, neither the energy nor the words to counteract her claims right now. He just lets her vent, lets her rage against her own cowardice, until her balled up fists uncurl at his back, and the warm flat of her palms press either side of his spine, drawing him closer, as if she wants to merge them into one.

If they can resolve the worst of their problems like this, he thinks, shivering under the electrifying brush of her lips over his throat, then they will be okay. Everything will be okay.

* * *

"Bed," he says again, huskily, and she gives in this time, lets him lead her by the hand like a child found sleepwalking in the dead of night, back to her bedroom, back to the bed they are sharing; to talk, to explain, to attempt to understand, to forgive.

She curls up beside him, her head on his shoulder, her knees turned towards him, resting against his thigh. He wraps an arm around her shoulder and kisses the top of her head, pulling the comforter over both of them.

"We've made quite a mess," he concedes, resting his chin on her head.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asks again. "Or…or try to find me?"

He thinks the answer to that last question is possibly so blindingly obvious that his reply goes without saying. But then, so much has gone without saying for too long where they are concerned.

"I could say the same about you, Kate. So we both sought professional help and we didn't feel like sharing. I'm guessing your reasons won't be too dissimilar to mine. Who wants to look weak or broken in the eyes of the one person they hope will admire them the most? Hmm?"

"You could never be weak in my eyes, Castle. Your ability to forgive alone makes you one of the strongest people I've ever met."

"I was damaged by this, Kate. We both were. When you came to see me at that book signing, I was going through the motions in an antidepressant haze," he confesses.

Kate stiffens next to him.

"I took sleeping pills for four months just to make it through the night without dreaming," she offers by way of an exchange.

"I wish I could have helped you with that," he laments, squeezing her knee.

"_See!_" she says, sitting up and turning to face him. "You're a much better person than I am. I run away to lick my wounds, I leave you hanging after you share the biggest thing anyone can share with another human being, and still your concern is for _me_, for _my_ well being. What about _you_, Rick? Who's taking care of _you?_" she pushes, feeling the swell of inequity rising between them again, her taking for granted days behind her if she has anything to do with it.

"So, make it up to me. Make it up to me from now on. We can't undo the past, Kate. All the stupid, selfish mistakes we've made, all the small and big ways we've hurt one another. But we can take care of the future."

She nods distractedly, settling against him again, toying with the crisp hem of the sheet, running it under her fingernail as she builds up to ask more of him. Needing them both to share everything tonight.

* * *

"So…can you tell me, only if you want to obviously, about your sessions with Dr. Eadie. Did they help?"

"I went to see my own doctor one day because I wasn't sleeping. I…I just wanted a prescription, something to stop the noise in my head so that I could get a few hours respite. He asked me a few questions and then a few more. Suddenly it was like a dam burst. I was crying in my doctor's office to a guy I'd known for years. A guy who'd been to my parties, knew my kid, had patiently answered every one of my insane medical questions for countless books. And now I'm weeping like a baby in front of him and the only word he said he could make out was '_Kate_'."

Kate has her hands over her face as she listens to him, shielding her eyes. But Castle gently peels them away and then carries on. He wants, no he _needs_, her to hear this.

"He referred me to the therapist I mentioned. And for the next few weeks, every Tuesday and Friday at three, that was my hour to offload. He put me on antidepressants pretty much right away. I hated them. They made me feel jittery, restless at first. My thoughts were still too scattered to write anything longer than a grocery list. But then gradually they started to work and the cloud began to lift a little. I started to eat better, forced myself to take Alexis out, walked and walked around my neighborhood until I was so exhausted I slept through the night without meds."

"Did the talking help?" asks Kate, curious to match her own experience to Castle's.

"Some. You know me, usually can't shut me up," he says, with a chuckle. "This guy must have been a saint. I think he sat through two entire sessions where I hardly uttered a word. But then when I was on my own, things would occur to me. Questions and doubts would swarm in my mind like noisy bees. I needed someone neutral to bounce that stuff off, since you were gone, and we had basically spent the last four years pretending there was nothing more between us than some unwritten professional contract that allowed me to follow you around and allowed you to be pissed off at me for doing so. And maybe gradually we became friends, but there would always be this invisible line we weren't supposed to cross. Only someone clearly forgot to copy my poor heart into that memo. And so…yeah, this unfortunate guy eventually got the full download."

"I seemed to spend a lot of time talking to Dr. Burke about fear," admits Kate.

"Fear…of the sniper coming back?"

"That, and fear of more…_emotional_ issues."

"Care to elaborate, Detective?" he teases, rocking her against his side for a second, just needing her to know that as angry and bitter as he can be over this, he still loves her, and he promised none of this would change who they are now.

* * *

"I could feel you drifting away from me a few weeks ago. I thought we were getting closer. That…I was nearly there. Our relationship seemed…lighter than it had in a long time. I looked forward to coming to work, Castle. To spending the day with you. And then all of a sudden, it was like that invisible line you were talking about had become this massive force field, and you were backing away from me. Dr. Burke thought that maybe since seven months had already passed since you told me that you loved me…and I basically left you hanging…"

"Wait. You told your therapist about me, Kate? That I loved you? That you remembered me telling you that?" asks Castle, completely surprised.

"Yes," admits Kate, dropping her head in her hands again. "Don't be mad at me. I was just like you: confused, hurting, trying to heal and not ready to deal with what you'd told me yet. But suddenly you were running around with other women and I know it wasn't fair of me to expect you to wait, but I thought we had an understanding. A…a plan."

"You mean from the day on the swings?"

"Yes."

"Kate, I'm a man," he says plainly, as some kind of an apology.

"I had noticed," she says, nudging his shoulder and blushing.

"I was forty years old and I'd been single for over a year, just…just waitin' around for you to notice me. _You_ walked away from _me_, but I stayed faithful to you, whatever that means, while you were gone. So, going the extra distance when you effectively asked me to wait some more…not a problem. I believed we were going to get there. But I was lonely, Kate. And when I heard you tell that kid, Bobby Lopez, in interrogation that when you got shot you remembered every second of it…that was it for me. The shutters came down. You lied to my face more than once about not remembering. I felt like an idiot for believing maybe you felt the same way about me."

"But I _did!_" she insists vehemently.

"Then…then why didn't you say something? Anything. A clue, a hint. Ask me to wait. Just…something, Kate?"

"Because I was _scared_," she yells, so ashamed.

"Of me?"

"Of everything. Loud noises, my own shadow at times, change, people, and yes…_you_. I thought you needed more than I could give you. I thought you deserved better than me. Dr. Burke asked me what I was afraid of - that you wouldn't wait until I was completely ready, or that you would. That about sums it up."

"Promise me we talk from now on? Now matter how ugly or weak you think your thoughts are, we talk about them. Both of us, Kate."

"If you agree not to let me off the hook? You should have asked me about that day in interrogation, Castle, instead of just walking away."

"Stupid male pride, I guess. But there is something I have always wondered…?" he says, pursing his lips.

"What's that?"

"Did it help…being alone at your dad's cabin to recover?"

"Some days it did. No one was there to watch me fall, I mean emotionally speaking, after he left. It was peaceful, and I couldn't deal with the noise of the city after everything. It was too confusing, too frightening. I felt safe there. But there were days when it was unbearably lonely too," she admits. "Just me and the birds."

"Oh, Kate."

"Hey, I am as stubborn as my mom at times. So it was my own fault," she says, holding up her hands to stop him from hugging her, needing to explain this to him. "And on those lonely days, I would think about you a lot. I used to try to remember all the cases we'd worked together and all the crazy theories you came up with for each one," she smiles wistfully.

"Really?"

"Mmm-hmm. And when you add them all together like that…I'm kind of glad you saw a therapist," she laughs, squirming when he tickles her side in revenge.

"Would you have sent me away if I'd come looking for you back then?" he asks, looking down at her pale, tired face.

"Probably. Castle, I don't know. I wasn't ready for this. I know that much."

"But you are now?"

"What do you think?" she asks, dropping her head back onto his shoulder with a sigh.

* * *

"One last question," he says, and Kate braces herself for what, she doesn't know.

"Would you have come looking for me at that book signing if I hadn't had the files you wanted?"

There's a heavy silence in the bedroom following Castle's pivotal question.

"The files were just an excuse, Castle. It was you I wanted to see," she admits, letting out a long breath.

"Honestly?"

"No more lies. I needed to know if you'd moved on with your life, if you still cared at all. For all I knew you could have been with someone else by then. And I wouldn't have blamed you for not waiting around anymore. The boys assumed we were in touch the whole time I was recovering. They were disappointed when I told them I hadn't spoken to you since the shooting. They pushed me to see you. But in reality, those files just gave me the opening that I needed. Selfish again, but no less true."

"You were like a vision when you stepped out of the line in that bookstore."

"Yeah, I know how that feels," admits Kate, thinking back to the day Castle visited her in the hospital, the shock of the at once so familiar and yet unfamiliar sparking something deep inside.

"I cancelled my next appointment with Dr. Phil that afternoon and threw the pills in the trash. You might think that all you did was hurt me, Kate. But…you made up for a lot of lost time that day. You gave me some hope back, no matter how small."

"I know it wasn't enough. That it wasn't anywhere near what you deserved. But like you said, I hope that can be in the past now. What matters is what happens from here on in."

"So you're sure? This…_us_. It's what you want?"

"Castle, I already told my dad. The boys know. I told you to tell Alexis. Believe me when I say it's exactly what I want," she tells him, swiveling round in bed so that he can see her face.

"Okay. Good. So, how do you want to handle it? Are we going slow, start dating from scratch, going public? What?"

"Our families already know, the guys, but we still need to hide it from Gates if we want to keep working together. But…other than that, I'm through being cautious and tentative with each other. I want you, Rick. I want you in my life in every way possible. Lets just work from that, can we?"

Castle tucks a loose curl behind her ear, and then skirts her cheekbone with his thumb to cup her jaw.

"You just made me a very happy man, Kate Beckett."

"You've been making me happy for a long time, Mr. Castle," she tells him, tenderly touching the soft skin beneath his eye, where a damson-colored bruise has blossomed.

"How about we get some sleep?" suggests Castle, figuring Kate must be as exhausted as he is after the emotional unburdening they've been engaging in for the last twenty-four hours.

"Sleep?" asks Kate, blushing and sounding a little surprised, trying to tamp down the curl of need spreading through her.

But then she shuts up, figuring Castle is recovering and they should really just put everything else on hold for tonight, no matter how much she wants to make things up to him.

"Sure. Let's get some sleep," she agrees.

* * *

They brush their teeth and prepare to settle in for the night, feeling deeply relieved and closer than they've ever felt before.

Kate blows out the candles and then climbs in beside her partner, fully intending to be good and go to sleep. But by the time he switches the lamp off, Kate's skin in beginning to burn and tingle with the effect of having him in her bed. And then Castle strips off his t-shirt and snuggles up behind her, his naked chest pressed against her back, which is also bare where her camisole ends below her shoulder blades, and suddenly all bets are off.

He slides one knee between her thighs, wraps his arm around her body, his large hand spread flat against her abdomen, the other tucked beneath her pillow.

"Goodnight, Kate," he whispers, kissing the shell of her ear. "Sweet dreams," he murmurs against her neck, his breath fanning the curve of her shoulder.

And it's just too much.

Her body is thrumming with desire for the man draped around her. She finds herself beginning to move her hips, circling her buttocks against his pelvis, driven by need and a lingering insecurity to attempt to arouse him tonight of all nights, after they have just laid themselves bare to one another – their deepest, messiest, ugliest secrets.

* * *

She feels Castle's surprise when she presses her ass against him for a third time, his fingers tightening on her abdomen as he follows her, rocking back after her, the move beyond his control when his hips chase the firm press of her buttocks.

But then he settles again, while her heart pounds, and how can he not feel that - her desperate need for him – she wonders.

So she lets one leg slide down over the cool sheets, allowing his knee more room to push between her thighs, and then she arches her spine and rolls her hips back against him again, and suddenly there it is: her sweet reward – the awakening of his body to her siren song.

She reaches back, flexes her fingers on his hip, pulling him against her at the same time as she pushes back into him, feeling his erection growing against the swell of her ass, eventually finding the hollow between her buttocks as it strains for freedom against the warm silk of his boxer shorts.

"Kate, what are you…?" he croaks in the dark of the bedroom.

"Shhh," she whispers, circling her hips lightly, rubbing herself over and over his throbbing, hard penis.

"Kate?" he whispers, brushing his lips over the bare portion of her back, sweeping her hair to one side to expose more skin. "Thought we were supposed to be sleeping?"

"Do you want to stop?" she asks, suddenly going still.

"No," he groans, arching his pelvis against her with a grunt of need.

"Well, then," she sings a little smugly, taking his hand and guiding it to cover her right breast, sighing out, "Oh God, yes," when he cups the swell of soft flesh and her nipple immediately hardens against his palm.

He strips the thin strap off her shoulder and pinches her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it as she writhes beneath him, the shock of sensation piercing her all the way to her core, like a jolt of electricity.

Kate rolls fully onto her stomach, drawing him with her so that he is half-draped over her back. She spreads her legs wider, arching her spine again until Castle curses.

"Fuck, Kate. You're gonna have to stop that or no one's sleeping tonight."

"Glad you're finally getting the idea," she murmurs, smiling into her pillow.

When she reaches back to stroke him through his boxers, Castle jolts in surprise. Hissing, "Jeez," into her hair, as she runs her fingers up and down his thick length and a wet spot blooms through the dark navy silk where his glistening tip presses against the fabric.

* * *

Finally, he gives restraint the brush-off and squeezes her hip, before slipping his fingers in between her body and the bed to cup her own arousal-dampened underwear. When he slips a finger under the elastic he moans in delight at how ready she is, how turned on.

"You're so wet," he hisses, failing to hide the dark smile in his voice, the one shot through with possessive male pride that he did this to her, that it's him she wants now. No matter their past, she only wants him.

He tugs at her panties and she shimmies them down over her thighs, losing them somewhere beneath the sheets. He frees himself from his own underwear in a desperate, untidy rush, her juice coating his fingers, making his cock thicken even more, the painful throb in his head ignored for now.

Then he grasps the underside of her right thigh, and hoists it higher, wider, until her lips are spread open for him, and he can tease her with his rigid length, running it between her slippery folds, brushing against her clitoris, painfully slowly.

Kate moans, hands fisting the sheets, as she lets her hips ride the hard length of his cock until she can't take it anymore, aching to have him inside her. She reaches behind, grasping him in her hand, and then circles her swollen entrance with the head of his penis.

Castle groans and splays his hand flat across her abdomen, and warmth spreads through her, heating her face and flushing her chest.

When she guides him in, he soon takes over, pushing the entire length of his erection into her, slowly filling her, stretching her body around him while his large hand holds her in place.

"Oh, God," he curses, breaths coming in ragged heaves, though they've barely even started. "Why did we wait so long to do this?" he asks, letting his tongue paint a line from her shoulder to her ear, grazing the same path with his teeth.

"Don't know," admits Kate. "But unless we speed things up, I'm not going to last long tonight."

* * *

He thrusts into her, pressing her down onto the bed with his hips, her legs spread apart, his hand keeping them hard up against each other, trapping her body against his so that he can feel every undulation of her pelvis, every strain of her thigh and buttock muscles, every ripple of her abdominals beneath his palm. She's alive beneath him and he thinks this might just be the hottest time yet.

When Kate arches her back, lifting them both off the bed, he yanks the straps of her camisole down her arms so that the garment falls to her waist, exposing her breasts in the faint glow of light coming in through the bedroom window. He can see her peeked nipples outlined in coal black shadow, the swell of her firm breasts milky white against the ebony headboard, and she shudders beneath him when the cool air rushes over her skin and he strokes the sensitive underside of her breasts with the heel of his hand, his neck arching to reach for her mouth.

"You are unbelievable," he whispers in her ear, teeth moving to graze the smooth curve of her shoulder where the orb of taut skin catches the light and the moonlike glow calls to him.

"Believe it," she grits out, breathily adding, "Lots more where this comes from," rocking back and forwards, riding his erection, the flesh of her buttocks beginning to slap noisily against his lower belly while he works to stroke his length in and out without stopping, working her higher through his own crazy fog of lust.

"Castle, touch me?" she begs, guiding his hand to where their bodies are joined.

He can feel her desperate need as she grips him firmly with her inner muscles, milking the fluid friction of their bodies sliding against one another, feels her juice trailing down his balls, sticking to his thigh, her state of high arousal driving his own need tonight.

All those months spend apart, barely existing, living through a haze of grief. If he could only have known that moments like this would be waiting for him in his future, he could have gotten through anything.

* * *

Kate reaches behind her again, her nails digging into the undulating flesh of his buttocks, bringing him sharply back to the present, as she urges him to fuck her harder.

He wraps his right arm across her chest, his left around her stomach, pinning her beneath him, and then he gives her everything he's got.

Their breathing is perfectly in tune, ragged and fought for, and sweat slicks the skin between them as Castle rides her, his chest sliding over her naked back. When his thick middle finger slips down to sweep lazy, traitorous circles over her clitoris, the game is finally up.

"Oh, shit, yes," she gasps, spreading her legs even wider. "Mmm, that's it. Oh God, Castle, yes!" she exclaims, licking her parched lips as she gives in to the surge of release.

She arches off the bed, squeezing her eyes tightly closed, while she flutters and shudders, breaking around Castle's cock and fingers.

He moves his hands to grip her hips as his thrusts become urgent and chaotic.

"Uh, oh God," he cries out, gripping her hard, both arms tightened around her middle once more while he powers one last thrust into her, trembling at her back when she feels the warm, wet pump of him spilling inside her, his own brief fluttering before his body sags on top of her and goes limp, his heart hammering against her spine.

He immediately rolls them onto their sides, still welded together, his lips pressed to her hair, murmuring sweet words against her tingling scalp.

* * *

"You okay?" whispers Kate, disentangling their shaking limbs to turn and face him.

She's sticky and sweaty and exhausted, but so happy that this awful day could end this way: with them together. Broken and then mended again by their own hand this time.

"I'm…" he pants, laughing at his own lack of stamina in the face of such fit hotness. "I'm going to the gym tomorrow," he gets out, to a relieved laugh from Kate.

"Head's okay? Sorry I kind of ambushed you," she tells him, tenderly touching his face, pulling the comforter up to cover their cooling flesh.

"Ambush me anytime, Detective," he grins, kissing the end of her nose.

"Now, I guess we really should sleep," she whispers, curling around him, pressing her cheek to his chest, then kissing the smooth skin over his rapidly beating heart.

"Sleep sounds good," he admits, lying still in the dark while Kate goes to the bathroom to get tidied up, dropping her camisole in the laundry basket on the way, preferring to sleep naked tonight.

* * *

When she comes back to bed, Castle is passed out cold, lying on his back. His hair is stuck to his forehead again, and his mouth is sagging open, and she watches him in the dimness of her bedroom, marveling at this gift she's been granted; this second chance to do things right.

She quickly sets the alarm on her phone and then lies down beside him.

"I love you," she whispers, before turning away to face the window, to settle down for the night with her sleeping partner at her back.

She smiles into her pillow when she hears her partner's response and feels his fingers slip possessively over her hipbone.

"Love you more, Kate," he murmurs, before falling back to sleep.

* * *

_A/N: Long chapter again, but after the last cliffhanger, I feared for my life if I'd cut this one in two! Not much left to go now. Liv_


	15. Chapter 15 Down The Rabbit Hole

Disclaimer: Some of the dialogue in the chapter is original ABC property, borrowed for the purposes of this story. No infringement of copyright is intended. No financial gain sought.

* * *

_**What If…?**_

_Chapter 15: Down The Rabbit Hole_

Kate is so deeply asleep that she thinks her alarm is sounding instead of her phone ringing.

"Phone," murmurs Castle, nudging her with his body, the two of them pretty much unmoved from the night before; his fingers curled around her hip, her body tucked into the warm, welcoming cave of his.

"Shit," curses Kate, flailing out an arm to feel for the offending article.

"Hello?" she croaks, her mouth dry as a desert sand dune, eyes still tightly closed.

"Oh, hey, Ryan," she says, clearing her throat, struggling to get upright and sound more coherent, a feat not helped by Castle's lips pressing a line of light, teasing kisses all the way down her neck and shoulder as he drapes himself over her.

"A what where?" she asks, brain no more awake than her voice.

Castle is already getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. He winks at her then wiggles his fingers in a cute little wave as he skirts the bottom of her bed, his boxers held modestly in front of him while he crosses the bedroom floor. She finds herself ogling his incredibly muscled ass when he passes by, not too sleepy for that apparently.

Kate gets up then too, and wanders into the living room to put her coffee machine on, the cool morning air raising Goosebumps all over her skin.

Ryan is saying something about a body drop and repeating an address to her that she's not quite taking in. She finishes the call, asking him just to text her the details, and then she slumps over her kitchen sink, her body aching and exhausted.

* * *

"Someone's not feeling too perky this morning," sings Castle, wrapping his arms around her and wedging her up against the island, while she tries to measure out coffee grounds.

"I'm naked in my kitchen, Castle. It's cold. I need to use the bathroom. I haven't had my coffee yet. Oh, and Ryan just called with a body," she groans, turning to lean against him, her cheek scuffing his warm, bare shoulder.

"Still seems like a pretty good morning to me," he chirps, kissing her shoulder then her forehead, as his fingers caress the flare of her hip before relocating to the dimples in her sacrum.

He turns her by the shoulders to point her in the direction of her bedroom and then he smacks her on the buttocks.

"Go shower. I'll make coffee. How much time do we have?"

"A little more than usual. M.E.'s office is backlogged apparently. They're trying to reach Lanie. But she'd not supposed on be on call today. Are you sure you don't want to sit this one out and go back to bed for a bit?" she asks, coming back to inspect his poor, bruised head.

"Not unless you're coming back to bed with me?" he yawns, stretching obscenely for this time of morning, his abs elongating from beneath the waist of his boxer shorts, biceps putting on quite the gun show.

"Maybe later?" she promises with a kiss and a smile, feeling a million times better this morning than she did twelve hours ago.

* * *

Kate is already toweling off after her shower, her skin pink and glowing, when Castle brings in her cup of coffee, his wrinkled silk boxer shorts clinging in all the right places.

"Made you toast," he tells her, leaving the plate with a couple of buttered slices sitting on the top of her bureau in the bedroom. The melted butter glistens appealingly and the delicious smell makes her stomach rumble.

"I could really get used to this, Mr. Castle," she grins, stealing a kiss from him on her way into the bedroom.

"Say the word and I'm never leaving," mutters Castle, too quietly for her to hear he hopes, though the sentiment is nonetheless true.

"What was that?" asks Kate, skimming her underwear up her thighs and over her rear, fastening the clasp on her bra and then coming back into the bathroom to hang up her damp towel.

"Nothing," lies Castle. innocently "I was just saying that I think you have the perfect partner, Beckett."

"That, I do," agrees Kate, pressing a lingering kiss to his smiling mouth.

* * *

Kate's hair is dried and styled by the time Castle gets out of the shower. She drops his underwear in the laundry basket along with her own. He catches her and she smiles is shy defeat.

"Can you stay another night?" she asks, coming over to wrap her arms around him and kiss his bare shoulder, fingers flirting with the knot in the towel he has slung low on his hips.

"You want me to?" he asks, surprised she isn't fighting to get her own space back already.

"I'd like a do-over now that we've…cleared the air. A night where we can just enjoy being us without the past getting in the way."

"In that case, Detective, you have a deal," he promises, kissing her softly, no time for more right now, his faith placed in her promise of later. "Just let me call Alexis later and fill her in on our plans."

* * *

Kate is sitting on the bed she just made, humming to herself, make-up on, hair done, wearing a crisp white shirt and sharp black pants, all ready to go.

Castle has his back to her, bent over her bureau wearing only his boxer shorts, and she is totally enjoying the view.

"I wish I'd brought more clothes," he frets, rummaging through '_his'_ drawer.

"It's a crime scene, Castle. I doubt the victim's gonna notice," says Kate dryly, as he pulls a black v-neck cashmere sweater over his head.

And boy does he look good in that, she thinks, letting her eyes roam over the way the soft knit hugs his chest, highlighting the definition in his pecs, the tan muscles in his forearms left on view when he pushes the sleeves up.

"What do you think of this one?" he asks, spinning around to find her staring at him unabashedly.

"Mmm, sexy!" declares Kate, coming over to plant her hands on his waist and lean in to kiss the bare triangle of skin exposed by the neck of his sweater.

"Sexy?" he barks in surprise.

"What's wrong with sexy?" she asks, shimmying her hips up against his.

"You work in a roomful of detectives. If we don't want Gates to know we're together…"

"Castle, no one is going to know we're together because you're not wearing a button down. Now, if you're not planning on adding any pants to that ensemble…different story," she jokes, raising one suggestive eyebrow.

"I just don't want to mess this up. I love going to work with you. If Gates kicks me out again…" he whines.

"Gates is not going to kick you out, okay?" she soothes, watching him pull on a pair of black jeans.

She fastens the buckle of his leather belt for him, and then hands him his jacket.

"When we are at work, you're single and I'm single. Got it?" she asks, kissing him and then moaning into his mouth when his tongue swirls over hers. "Wow!" she adds, with a dreamy look and that devastating smile he loves so much. "Right, let's go."

* * *

They chat amiably as they walk from her car to the mouth of the alley Ryan texted as the address. Kate feels so much relief and freedom now that their secrets have been shared, their pain exposed, their feelings for one another declared.

"So, Thai or Chinese tonight?" he asks, enjoying this chance to plan ahead, the certainty that they're going home together at the end of the day to spend the night at Kate's apartment.

As they cross the street, completely in step with one another, their shoulders bump, and the back of Kate's hand repeatedly brushes against his, fingers tangling once for the thrill of it, and there's a shared secret look until they absolutely have to behave.

"Tired of good old American already?" teases Kate, flirting with him.

"_Katherine Beckett!_" he declares, trying to look shocked and not as delighted by her dirty mind as he actually is. "I meant food, as you well know. And I seem to recall you making Italian last night," he answers back smugly.

"I know. And I meant me," she giggles while he gapes at her, in awe of how mended they've managed to make themselves in the space of a few hours.

"You're not old and I'm beginning to think you're maybe not so good either. So it's just as well you're all American."

"Could say the exact same thing about you, Rick," she teases, playfully nudging his side.

"I love you," he blurts out, tugging on the sleeve of her coat just as they hit the corner of the alley, and then he grabs her wrist to stop her for a second. "Never forget that."

"I know," replies Kate, nodding, her face suddenly serious. "Me too, Castle."

"Good," he says, sounding grown-up and satisfied.

* * *

The alley is eerily similar to the one they found Skelton Drake in not four days ago. Grubby, off-white, tiled walls broken up by irregular patches of concrete meant as running repairs when they were slapped up there by some low-rent landlord, but now weathered with age and cracking under the strain.

A scrawny looking cat slinks past from behind an overflowing Dumpster, tail swishing in a calculating manner, cold, dead eyes trained on the dirty ground.

"What, no coffee?" smirks Esposito, looking pointedly at the empty hands of the writer and his detective and the two guilty faces that greet him.

They glance at one another, realizing just how hard keeping this from Gates is going to be if Ryan and Esposito insist on teasing them about it.

"We had coffee at home, okay," replies Kate coolly, giving Esposito her scariest Beckett stare, the one Castle's been on the end of so many times he thought it was only meant for him.

"So, what have we got?" asks Kate, touching Castle's arm as a kind of farewell to their private time, before moving away from him to inspect the body.

"So, we got a Hispanic male, late twenties. Cabbie spotted the body about an hour ago and called it in," Esposito says, running down the bare facts for her.

"We got an ID?" asks Kate, nodding a greeting to Lanie.

"No. Checked his pockets. No phone, keys or wallet. We're taking prints right now. From the blood trail it looks like he was shot before he entered the alley," surmises Esposito.

"He was hit in the shoulder with what looks like a .357. But the kill shot: pointblank execution style with a 9mm," Lanie tells them, pointing to the entry wound in the man's forehead as she rattles off her initial assessment of cause of death.

She looks over at Kate and Castle, who are now standing together evaluating the body, having gravitated back to each other's side as if drawn by some magnetic pull.

"Castle, are you…did you do somethin' different?" Lanie asks the instantly panicked looking writer, waving her hand down over his body, trying to figure out just what if might be.

"Nope," he says guiltily, looking at his feet and then shifting his eyes to steal a glance at Kate, trying to telegraph '_I told you they would notice!'_ based on this slight deviation from his normal crime scene attire of dress shirt, instead of open neck sweater.

"Are you flirting with my partner, Miss Parish?" challenges Kate, smirking when something seems to dawn on Lanie's face as she looks at the two of them afresh.

"Your…? Oh, you and I are gonna have a little talk, Kate Beckett," Lanie declares, and Kate can see from the look on her face that her relationship with Castle has just become completely apparent to her friend.

"Yeah, well, let's deal with this first, shall we?" suggests Kate calmly, moving around the body to get another look.

* * *

"Two guns. Could be more than one shooter," suggests Castle, quickly recovering his composure since Kate seems so cool, unfazed, and completely in control of things.

"Was CSU able to trace the blood trail from the first shot?" she asks, looking to Esposito for an answer.

"Starts around the corner," he confirms. "There's no visible point of origin. But the teams are still looking."

"Well, this is a bad neighborhood," says Kate, scanning up and down the alley. "Maybe it was a mugging gone wrong?" she suggests, looking first to the, often, simplest explanation when a body is found dumped in an alley.

"Maybe," says Lanie, though she sounds skeptical. "These grooves in his shoulder indicate that he was carrying something, and it was heavy. I'd say at least thirty pounds," she adds, pointing to some nasty, purple marks on his skin that were evidently made antemortem. "I'm even seeing traces of skin tissue in his fingernail. I might be able to get DNA. But I'll know a lot more once I get him back to the morgue."

"Uh...his pockets may have been emptied, but it looks like he was trying to hide something in his shoe," says Castle, pointing to where the cuff of the victim's pants leg has been slightly pulled up.

Kate lifts the hem with a gloved hand to reveal a small black case with a set of metal tools inside, jammed into the tongue of his boot.

"Lock picks?" says Kate, withdrawing the miniature stainless steel implements from the protective carrycase.

"Now, why would someone be needing lock picks?" sings Castle, looking at his partner as the mystery deepens and a simple mugging gone wrong turns into something else entirely.

* * *

Ryan comes hurrying towards them from the opposite end of the alley, his notebook open in his hand.

"Unis canvassing the neighborhood just found this guy's car abandoned two blocks from here. Blood trail confirms it's his. Papers in the glove box say he's an Orlando Costas."

"Great. Let's check it out," says Kate, nodding to Lanie that she'll catch up with her later, her hand on Castle's back as they leave the crime scene meant to confirm for her friend everything she already suspects about them being together, and a shiver of pride and possibility runs through her at this liberating realization.

Castle turns back to check on her when he feels her fingers lightly pressing against his spine, and he gives her a reassuring smile when he sees that she just needed to touch base with him, literally in this case. Being together is going to give him so many more opportunities to be there for her he realizes, as more than a partner, way more than he ever had the chance to before.

He hears the mysterious voice of Smith echoing in his head - the man's warnings and threats - and he shivers at the unbidden images it throws up. Stepping aside to let Kate pass in front of him, he schools his features to neutral lest she figure out that he has something other than Chinese food on his mind.

* * *

The second alley is as dismal as the first. Steam drifting up through the vents at one end gives a damp earthy quality to the air where it wafts to the surface from the subway tunnels deep below street level. The oxblood-colored metal fence that runs the length of it separates the buildings on one side from a multilevel parking garage on the other.

The car they are looking for is sitting midway along the wall waiting for them, guarded by a Uniform: a pretty beat-up, rusted, pile of junk with torn upholstery and a strong smell of cigarette smoke inside.

"Two blocks away from the alley. Blood smeared on the armrest. This is definitely it," declares Esposito, after they open the driver side door to peer inside the abandoned vehicle.

"He was shot someplace else, then came here? Why not go home? Why not go get patched up?" wonders Castle, crouching down next to Kate by the open door.

"He was meeting someone in that alleyway," surmises Kate, glancing at her partner.

Esposito digs around under the front bench seat, while Ryan takes the back of the car.

"Phone," he says, holding up a basic black cell phone. "His last call was 4:47am, just before he died," confirms Esposito.

"Run that number," instructs Kate.

"Alright!" agrees Esposito.

"Beckett. Gun. It's a 38. Recently fired," says Ryan, holding up the black revolver he just found in the back of the car, swinging open the cylinder to sniff inside the chamber.

"So it was a shoot out. That's how he got the shoulder wound," remarks Castle.

"Which means wherever he came from, there might be another body," suggests Kate, beginning to build theory with her partner.

"I know where he was coming from," says Esposito, holding up the phone.

"Where?" asks Castle.

"His last entry was 299 First Ave," reads Esposito off the illuminated screen.

"What? What's at 299 First Ave?" asks Castle, his expression blank.

He looks to Kate for the answer, and her face changes in an instant. All of a sudden she looks stiff, tense and pale. She bites her lip and it blanches white.

Something about this feels off to Castle. Stomach churning. They've finally fixed things between them, they're looking forward to a future together, to dinner at her place tonight, dinner and then bed, making new memories, happy memories to drive out the dark ones. So why does this feel as if they're about to start falling through a bottomless hole in the ground, like something out of Alice in Wonderland?

"Captain Montgomery's house," confirms Kate, in a flat tone, her face turning stony, her eyes going wide.

* * *

_A/N: And so, my dear readers, we have come to the end of this tale. I want to thank everyone who read and reviewed. I have loved dwelling for a little while in this AU version of how these two characters might have got together, as I know some of you have too._

_We leave the story at the point where 'Always' started, only in this version Kate and Castle will investigate her shooting and her mom's murder as a bonafide couple. I'm sure that would have had a bearing on how things would have turned out, including the revelation of Castle's secret and her chase after Maddox. But that is a tale for another time perhaps._

_I'd like to thank BlueOrchid96 once again for the original prompt for this story, and for her friendship and generous support throughout the writing of it._

_Until we all meet again… Liv_


End file.
